Fling Poem by Thomas Plotz

Fling frisbee, flying circle on the freshly mowed,
Pitch as green as Irish Isles,
Gentle breeze kind and mild
As I think of your smile

Just stepped outside
For a game of toss
Except without loss or win,
Just personal condition of competition with clutching completions

Again and again we lobbed it across
Back and forth, ran caught then tossed

Till I was winded, then I sat, to catch my breath and
They did cartwheels, till I was good to go again

Later I ask who else they played with,
For they are good at this game,
They said, "Only you"

That made me sad, but happy at the same - time

T. Plotz
Fling
10 May 2018