Red Cricket Ball

Unpacking I find,
That red cricket ball,
Scars digging in on all sides,
The lace beginning to come undone.
Just holding it right,
Catching the scent of that field,
I remember where every cloud was in the sky,
And every word that was said.
So important and yet so small,
So much was said in that red cricket ball,
Now it serves to punctuate those events,
Empathetic as it rests in my hand.
I toss it up for good measure,
Thinking of all the distance it's traveled,
All the hands it's seen,
And all the time that's passed.
I know when I'm lonely I'll return,
To this red cricket ball,
With it they almost seem real again,
And it doesn't hurt as much.