As a child summer clung
as a veil about the summers
hazed in greens and yellows
the trunks of trees rising in
moss'ed woods and
sprouting into the edge of pastures
long abandoned in the old age of
the loved strangers leaving the land to
the adventuring of children
as the days lingered.
I huddled then as the
words blurred into cadences
that would allow me sleep
in the age of always storm
battered hearts and
Learning to love the manner in which
the surge hits the surf and rain trembles
the window panes on which it falls upon
the dreaming minds inside
as the nights lingered.
We held hands in the summer
that birthed our majorities and
witnessed us grown together
and apart again, from strangers
to loved to strangers
again, as distance and realization that
nothing can stay the same as they were
when we could count forever on our freckled
wandering backs that year
as childhood lingered.
Day one of National Poetry Writing Month!