A Game of Catch

“It’s cold enough to see your breath!”
my mother said, “You’ll catch your death.”
We never did. Death got away
for us to catch another day.

We’ll catch our death! We’ll catch him yet.
Catch him, keep him as a pet.
Catch him, put him in a cage.
Is he angry? Let him rage.

Catch him by his bony toe
If he hollers don’t let go.
Catch him, bring him back alive.
Put him on The News At Five.

I’ll run until I catch my death!
Run until I’m out of breath!
Will I catch Death, or he catch me?
I play for keeps. But so does he.

Paul Sampson

Paul Sampson (pauljsampson@yahoo.com) has played doctor, baseball, the horses, and possum, and is puzzling out the similarities and differences among them. He lives in Texas, where he builds scale models of imaginary objects.

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