The baseball flew out of the park.
It blasted clean over the fence.
It shot through the leaves
On Ms. McCrae’s trees,
And no one has seen the thing hence.

The baseball lit out with a crack.
It vanished in two seconds flat.
And those there that day
Will whisper and say
They saw smoke rise up from the bat.

It went down in Little League fame.
They say the ball’s traveling still.
At the rate which it flew,
It is now in Peru
And will soon be traversing Brazil.

I’m charting the course it will take,
Providing its route stays the same.
It should be back here
At this time next year,
And then we can finish our game.

~ Barbara Vance