My mind turns back,
To the summer days,
Of my childhood years ago,
To the baseball games,
Fireman’s picnics,
Cornfields all in a row.

I can still feel,
The warmth of the breeze,
Kissing at my skin,
As we rode our bikes,
Around the block,
Greeting neighbors with a grin.

As the sprinklers rained,
Their drops of sunshine,
Upon the hungry ground,
I hear the splashing,
Of tiny feet,
No greater fun was found.

The darkness of,
The summer sky,
Was a treasure to behold,
Filled with fireworks,
And bright fireflies,
And stories to be told.

Each time I smell,
Freshly cut grass,
Its sweetness takes me away,
To family and friends,
We used to know,
In the summers of yesterday.

©2007 Virginia Donahue