Slipping through the back door
and into the night,
you waited for me
to join you in flight.
You wore not a feather,
but offered your hand.
A silent invitation
to enter your Neverland.
When I was falling,
you taught me to fly.
With Pixie Dust Kisses,
we took to the sky.
A glowing gas station,
our second star to the right.
You turned your truck left,
and we soared to great heights.
Hand-in-hand we touched down,
landing in your driveway.
Stumbled into your messy room,
our underground hideaway.
We made a pact of youth
in a moment without time.
our tangled legs quivering,
and starry eyes aligned.
With daybreak it was over,
stolen pirate ships returned,
but always in my aging heart
the purest love for you will burn.
-c.g.s.
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 1:24 AM UTC
My mind’s tape rewinds to seasons of impromptu travel.
Watermelon juice adhering to chins and freckled legs.
Bike rides.
Scraped knees oozing sanguine fluid.
Hot nights.
Swimming. Open eyes. Chlorine burn.
Hiking all morning; burgers in the afternoon.
Cheeks mimicking the color of Red Delicious apples.
Sparkling eyes reflecting the burst of fireworks.
Teasing cousins and word-spinning aunts.
Snow Cones dyeing tongues blue coconut blue.
They were happy young Summers,
Happy young Summers.
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 1:21 AM UTC