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.

Gus Daum


About degus221

A Kansan who has migrated to Oregon.
This entry was posted in Poetry, Reflections and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to SUMMERTIME

  1. davinew says:

    And here it is already the middle of July, sigh. Thanks for the memories


  2. Ann Douglas says:

    Sweet. Visual. Inviting. Thanks Gus.


Please Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s