|Posted by firstname.lastname@example.org on August 7, 2016 at 3:00 AM|
Roses in the front yard…
Smoke from the BBQ in the backyard…
Seen through our youthful eyes,
It was never enough.
We would giggle at the potential,
As we sat on the couch and wondered,
That the Blues could lead to Hope.
As Grandpa’s car drove over the gravel
And hit every pot hole in the pavement.
The engine would hiss as it shut down
In the driveway, on the side of the house.
Then the Door would squeal
To cause all to glance in its direction,
To see Grandma in her new glasses.
We would balance on our nose
Robin feathers, fallen from
The backyard tree he claimed,
Trying to keep them from falling off.
These were the games of youth, that
We labored at in those summer days.
When we were blessed with sun
Hiding in the bush was, well,
A good thing.
The dog longing to reach the neighbor’s cat.
I would bare-handle it back to its home
Where one could see the heather in the yard.
In the evening, the crickets would sing
As we listened to the remote voices from the park
Up the street as they speak of baseball;
Pitcher breaking in a new glove,
Cleats ripping up the sod,
The skill of the swing.
…All in the falling darkness of twilight.
Drama, as the autumn leaves browned-
Death was on the landscape.
There was no scene from earlier to prepare us,
To make it disappear behind
A Magicians handkerchief
Or like leaves from the branches.
Adults yelling “Watch the children!”
What a spectacle they made!
As the mourners cast dull eyes
In their direction
And the leaves wanted to join in too
Flying in through the doors,
Into the living room to flutter near
Great Grandma’s coffin
Where she lay smiling.
I would rather see her
I was just a girl when the shadows
Would make leaps into the future.
We were just kids as the shadows
Pushed us toward the future.
We were young.
Nights in my Apartment-
Remembering, as evening lingers,
While listening to the old 45s
And wonder at this time of love.
Unforgettable yet forgotten,
Time marched, bringing to an end the
Patented cries from the past that
Made it true.