Pitch

On a late summer afternoon
A phlegmatic world against me
In a world so alienly known
Only a friend could saviour be.

Injected with infectious malice bred
A dozen strong fuelled by evil intent
Tied by a common knot of hate
All kinds of harm against me meant.

They marched in procession minus the band
For a record upturned in a turn of a wand
No chance of mercy that would be shown
Although no hallmark hath I blown.

With all the innocence they gathered over years
I braved tales cooked so well by ‘friends’
And as indifferent faces looked on and smiled
Came only one friend to break the offence.

She talked no big, nor made tall claims
But put simple facts very straight;
Did mean no offence on anybody really
But defended the true story lost of late.

Her voice made few more pitch them in
And an active discussion was fought
Bit by bit, out came all venom and spit
And everything was sorted out.

That was when I probably heard of her
And things suddenly seemed to change
In places I could have barely imagined
I probably lost track of my senses.