The Seven Poem by John F. McCullagh

From the time his boy could stand
The Dad had brought him on the Seven.
To see the Mets they both would go,
before he'd even learned to throw.

All through his childhood and past his teens.
They'd entrain to their field of dreams.
Their Mets found many ways to lose-
most years they had godawful teams.

So soon it was his time to go.
Children grow (Time flies they say) -
His son now has his place downtown
A few short miles and a world away.

Opening day is magical
once more it found them in the stands
Cheering loud, their voices hoarse,
as their team booked yet another loss.

After the excitement of the game
waiting on the platform for their trains
The two men hugged with obvious affection,
then entrained in opposite directions.