A time for memories to be born
Small boys learn that summer’s time stretches endlessly.
Young girls dream of tiara’s and flounced dresses.
There’s picnics, fishing, fireworks, poolside lounging,
and young love wakens to the magic in brushed hands
The sharp tang of lemon, a nectar freshly squeezed,
watermelons red flesh dripping its flavor on chins,
hotdogs roasted slow over an open fire, and
Ice cream spun in salted ice in porch’s shade.
Winter’s rains a distant thing,
makes welcome the morning’s dew.
Flowers nurtured to full splendor
and the smoke drift from outdoor grills
Concerts in the park,
cooling hours in river’s flow.
Newly formed twosomes,
and dancing in the dark.
The counting begins
to vacation trips—weeks ahead.
Visits to and from far flung family,
to fall’s school chums, and football.
Only fading memories of long past years,
often far brighter than in its time, but
repeated again and again to another mind.