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Lex-Town MAG
February 16, 2010
That time when,
We sat with legs broiling
On those fresh-baked metal benches
Like the charring of dogs on pokers
In the pit by my pond
We craved to dip in
Even though we were told
It was much too cold
Like the cups sweating in
Our hands with sticky soda and
Ice cubes tumbling around
Like marbles between our teeth
'Til they disappeared
Like the lightning abandoned
Like a leper in these country skies
Boy, I miss those nights
© Bianca A., Damascus, MD
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