The corner store, just a short walk from the docks, the one made of honey and fresh peaches. I remember it like it was yesterday bare feet and pebbled rock. From the shore the children would run, mom and dad gave a nickel for ice cream. I rode my bike on a summers afternoon and I rung my bell as I neared closer to the hot pressed waffle cones. Mr. Wright became my friend on a summer night, he ran the general store. I’d go in and we’d talk for hours, a fresh coca cola and a fudge sickle bar. I wish Mr. Wright was here on this fine night where I am feeling a little more lonely. I wish Mr. Wright wasn’t flying high with the birds singing the same song he always sang. I wish for a Coca Cola and I dream of something of dasies and open fields.