Childhood Summer

doors creak, opened by
sun-stickied fingers.

a puddle on the sidewalk
shines with a nostalgic glimmer.

——-

the taste of pavement and chalk
so hot an egg could fry.
the oppressive warmth
needs escaping.
doors creak, opened by
sun-stickied fingers.
the air-conditioning inside
smells like fresh water
and feels like an embrace
of ice prickles
leaving bodies punctuated
with goosebumps.

a hose in the backyard
could be a source of hydration
or a toy
while running barefooted
across the grass and clover
trying not to step
on any bees–
the danger only
adding to the fun.

those days pinned down
by sea salt headaches,
leaping from
shade to shade,
erroneously convinced
the best days lay
yet ahead.

Photo by JACK REDGATE from Pexels

12 thoughts on “Childhood Summer”

  1. Beautifully penned and evocative. I really liked these lines:

    “the taste of pavement and chalk
    so hot an egg could fry.”

    The temperatures are so high right now, my dad literally used that expression to me the other day; never gets old to hear, though. 😀 This stanza is also a gut punch:

    “those days pinned down
    by sea salt headaches,
    leaping from
    shade to shade,
    erroneously convinced
    the best days lay
    yet ahead.”

    I feel like often the best days are within the past, but maybe that’s just me. As said, this is beautifully written and as well haunting. I love your work, Joy!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you so much for reading my poem with such care! I also frequently feel like the best days are within my past. The ultimate peace is probably in believing that the best days are in the present because there is something inherently wonderful about being in the experience, but much as I try to chase it, I find that belief very elusive.

      Liked by 1 person

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