Cricket Bat

Every afternoon I come home waiting to find you,
I take you cautiously down to the garden,
Careful not to drop you into the muck,
As bat hits ball a grin creeps onto my face,
Knowing the frivolous efforts of the bowler's golden duck,
Rain thunders down.
Yet the game carries on,
And like the rain the bowler is filled with a thunderous rage,
Will I meet my doom? I do not know,
But one thing is certain...
My bat knows how to put on a show.