Some people – like you for instance –

            Just can’t take a compliment

            No matter what

 

            I’ve tossed knuckleballs and curves,

            Sliders, change-ups and have even thrown heat

            Straight down the middle

 

            You always act as if I’m brushing you back

            On an 0-and-2

 

            When all I really want

            Is for you to take a healthy cut,

            Send my pitch into the stands

            And round the bases nonchalantly towards home

            So I can start again

 

            When I was a kid I hunted forever for arrowheads

            Along the riverbank

            Because they were light, smooth and thin

            And with just the right angle and speed and spin

            I could skim them sheer across

            The mesmerising surface of the sparkling stream

            Clear to the opposite side

            And celebrate with an Indian whoop

 

            Some never made it all the way,

            Piercing and sinking out of sight

 

            I used to put it down to poor technique

 

            Though now I’ve come to think

            The river’s unseen chaos

            Had a part to play