In summer, the song sings itself.
~William CarlosWilliams
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.
© 2012
Tarringo T. Vaughan

Soon, the traffic will rise — tempered
as it grows in size
steadily drifting through the warmth
of morning’s sunrise
into the shadows of overcast trees
where singing birds fly

and soon there will be the joy in a child’s eye
awakening the silence of urban playgrounds
with joyous cries

shifting time through the beauty and magic
of nature’s surprise

as summer in the city
sighs –

a new day .
© 2012
Tarringo T. Vaughan

as I reflect. I was once a young man stuck inside the neglect
of the true feelings of love. I never allowed my heart
to rise above society’s cruelty
and contribution towards external shame. And on a day like today
I found myself and took the blame;

I took the blame for not feeling the heat wave
of emotion that was hidden inside
for all those moments I cried. I had no one to confide –
the silent pain that grew within
this skin of silhouettes

was blind of a face; an empty canvas of identity
trying too hard to blend in with what they call normal.

I needed to escape to be me; I needed to break away
from a secret lie and embrace everything I was meant
to be – like the seeds of these flowers in my surroundings

I found a way to blossom
into the meanings of a man
nurtured through the nectar of strength.

And it was a day like today that summer winds released my
freedom,

so I write this poem in celebration
of  awakening through the nakedness internal victory.

© 2012
Tarringo T. Vaughan

in his voice, as his raspy cough briefly interrupted the moment,
was the song of an elderly man missing the days of innocence
but briefly in this time, in the sight of the young boy
he now studied from across the street
he saw a familiarity. His vision saw support and togetherness;

his hearing heard the song of compassion
and in the charcoaled flavored heat, his heart felt
what he thought was forgotten;

the genius and destiny of hope. In his life he has seen
once inspiring brick-layered sidewalks become the mask
of crime that has kidnapped a neighborhood once
proud. He has seen the dreams of children become temporarily
paralyzed by the heights of poverty and many visions
of fear. He watched in silence over all these years

but the tears of his mind has always been vocal.

The shackles
of osteoarthritis that now held on to his bones and the slight
battle with old-aged deafness that now challenged
the vibration of harmony and not even the parade
of high blood pressure marching through his veins
could keep him from feeling the pain and decay

of days passed. But as he looked on at the sight
of burgers and hotdogs sizzling on the grill; as he looked on
at the pleasantries of young and old joining in good times
and fun playing the games of life; as he looked on
and lived again through the body language of the young boy
who now looked back at him

he saw the glimpse of renewal in a community
holding on to the aspects of a neighborhood’s inheritance.
For the first time in many decades, he saw the enjoyment
in dancing trees that waltzed in the breezes of tomorrow;
he felt shades of sweat trickle down his bronzed almond skin
that was the welcomed condensation of happiness
and he smelled a renewed energy of genetic fortitude
that was family all in the aroma of summer cooking –

and so…he dreamed on.
Tarringo T. Vaughan
© 2012