being grown up isn't half as fun as growing up
sometimes
when I think back to the summers
of my childhood
to barefoot basketball on an asphalt driveway
making our feet black and earning
a scolding and a wet washcloth from my mother
to ticks found in between toes and in our hair
after too much time spent
in the bog and among the willows that guarded
the edge of our endless backyard
to the cicada’s loud call
to softball and croquet and simply sitting in the
overgrown summer grass
to the far-off melody of an ice cream truck
to going to bed sunburned, bruised, and exhausted
only after waiting for the twinkling of fireflies
and the sparkling of stars to embellish
the beautiful, warm nights
all that I can do is
sigh
and know that the most magical part of my life
is over
This is really great!
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