Love What's Gone

The softball shirt In the picture you were pitching You were younger than me A ball or a strike Your hat is on straight It's grey here but in my closet I know that it's red The coffee mug On the wall there's a drawing You made of my mom It's in her hand She's in her robe It's got a zig zag pattern In the cabinet And I don't really think that I like this game I don't think I understood all the rules Do you just go on And love what's gone And love what's gone The felt tip pen In your sketch books I would sit And I would follow these lines That old woman there Did she notice you stare As you captured her essence In Mexico The New York Times Sunday crossword by Eugene T. Maleska And every weekend Before you got sick You would ink in those words In ten minutes And I don't really think that I like this game I don't think I understood all the rules Do you just go on And love what's gone And love what's gone And love what's gone And love what's gone The softball shirt In the picture you were pitching You were younger than Me