When I faded back to pass
Late in the game, as one
Who has been away some time
Fades back into memory,
My father, who had been nodding
At home by the radio,
Would wake, asking
My mother, who had not
Been listening, “What’s the score?”
And she would answer, “Tied”,
While the pass I threw
Hung high in the brilliant air
Beneath the dark, like a star.
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