**Lefty, the Flame-Thrower**©
  By Artemis Quill 2024
Lefty loved being on the mound, 
Where whispers of legends danced all around. 
With a flick of his wrist and a glint in his eye, 
He summoned the fire, igniting the sky. 

His fastballs spun like the tales of old, 
Each pitch a secret, each strike a bold hold. 
The crowd held its breath, in a trance they stood still, 
As he conjured the flames that would bend to his will
. 
In twilight's embrace, when the shadows grew long, 
The diamond transformed into a stage for his song. 
A game of the heart and soul fiercely played, 
With every flame-licked pitch, destinies swayed. 

The moon cast a glow, like an omen of fate, 
As Lefty unleashed his magic too late. 
For the spirits of baseball were watching him close, 
In the dance of the night, he became their ghost.
 
His glove was a chalice, his bat a bright sword, 
Each hit was a hymn, each cheer an accord. 
With the echoes of laughter that soared through the air, 
Lefty wove dreams with a flicker of flair. 

But time, like a tempest, is cruel and unkind, 
And the flame that once flickered began to unwind. 
With the weight of the years, his arm grew so sore, 
Yet the fire in his heart burned forevermore. 

In the twilight of twilight, where shadows entwine, 
Lefty still stands, an immortal design. 
For the flame-throwing player, though time may take toll, 
Forever will linger—the game of the heart and soul.