Billy Goes Bowling

Whenever I put on these shoes, Russell asks me if we are going bowling.  Lovely, I know.  I wore these shoes today which reminded me of all my bowling memories, most of which began as soon as I met Ryan.  Shocked?  I do have one bowling memory that is pre-Ryan, though.  In eighth grade there was a day that all the departments coordinated their lesson plans around a bowling theme.  We were super academic like that.  In Math we figured out some equation about velocity, History I have no idea but I'm sure it was fascinating, and English we had a competition for the most creative writing piece.  Somehow I won a field trip to go bowling with this poem.  I don't remember how that all worked or who else was there.  It's all a little fuzzy.  Anyway, sorry, my brain is not in compose mode at all tonight so here's a bit from the thirteen year old me.  How clever I thought I was!   

Billy Goes Bowling

Billy wasn't born to bowl,

baseball was his game.

The sport was foreign to him,

he tried it all the same.

He walked into the alley,

found a bowling ball,

but when he tried to lift it,

he fell a mighty fall.

Billy moaned an anguished groan

jumping to his feet,

slipping on the way back down,

his clown shoes had no cleats.

Billy got up from his fall,

limping to his lane.

This wacky game called "bowling"

had cause him only pain.

Billy wound up for a pitch,

giving it his all.

Although his form was perfect,

he threw a gutter ball.

After several faulty rolls,

Billy saw his score.

"Not bad," he thought," not a single strike.

The guy next door has four!"