spring training

Now it is another April
and I await your violets,
wishing you would bloom,
even at the sides of my eyes.

It's baseball season
but I'm lost on the sidelines.
I can't find you on my map
because you are in the outfield.

I don't understand it when
people say they receive visits;
you've never come to see me.
This spring, maybe a home run.

Maybe I'll get to visit with you.