I'm not quite ready for the hot stove yet
I suspect I'll never love a baseball team again as much as I've loved these Red Sox. The trade winds are blowing, the rolling stones are rolling; things will never be the same again.
But, oh, guys, how I've loved you. Every minute has been beautiful, painful, scripted for maximum effect. You're the boyfriend from my youth that I'll always remember with a twinge, bitter but mostly sweet. What was, what might have been, like the aftereffect of a first kiss. Thank you.