Sunday, February 3, 2013

Summer as a child



Green leaves and dry August air
garage sale bikes and fishing line shared

the outskirts of town were our adventure land
we swam in the stream and played in the sand

she was tall and I was shy
she kissed me once I don't know why

we played all day and every night
we roasted hot dogs, told stories of fright

The stream is now dry and the hay fields gone
kids are grown and school is done

all that remains are memories of summer days
and a faded photograph from a long lost place

~ Mark

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