In summer, the song sings itself.
I hear the songs again. Back when my mind
was in the body of innocence – before growth
when adolescence stood still in time
and the playfulness of youth
filtered through the poetry
of nursery rhymes. I hear the songs again. Memories
dancing on aged sidewalks of granite decay
just beneath sunsets of golden brown
– drifting off into the brilliance of another day.
We played. Girls double dutch(ed) to the rhythm
of freedom – pigtails sweating within the humidity of laughter
as smiles journeyed through the warm winds of hope
and us boys played tagged. Running freely through streets
where dreams had promise. Our shouts
were the lyrics of energy as childhood synergy
is still heard through many centuries of June.
I hear the songs again
in summer. Back when the genius of sunrise
lit up the playgrounds of imagination. A time when
a child’s eyes orchestrated
the perfect vision of summer’s sky –
I hear the songs again.
Tarringo T. Vaughan