Rhythmic Stories April 22, 2022

Summer at the Spring

1964

If you have a memory in your brain that keeps returning
Something clear and distinct and leaves you yearning

It brings a smile you feel on your face and inside
Please close your eyes and bring it out. It’s ok not to hide

A Recuring memory of a simple day and time
I play it over and over. Some days in my mind

On a summer day, the grass is green, the sky cornflower blue
Dust kicks up behind me as I run barefoot without my shoes

Down the path past the green apple orchard, I see Mr. Pott’s old shutters

I pass by his house. He looks up and smiles, hands tucked in suspenders

My sisters and little brothers are by my side
we begin to race

Stopping for a moment, we all fall, and in the sand, we trace

Names and faces and with sticks and rocks,
None of us worried about the ticking of a clock

The sweat trickles down the sides of our faces
Up and running again, we begin new races

Then we see the rays bouncing off like a mirror
The ice-cold spring is small and somewhat narrow

As we take turns jumping in off the natural dock
squeals of delight as we all jumped off the rock

A bright summer day when life was simple and carefree
Colors, sweet smells, and playing, sisters, brothers, and me

My day will be better because I brought you out
To chase away the blues and live without doubt

A lazy day in June in nineteen sixty-four
Today I remember it clear as glass.
I’ll think of it some more

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