When I was a child, did summer days
Wear longer skirts than now? Were garden roses more clever
or did their fragrance just know better how
to follow an admirer all the way down the street?
When I was a child, once school vacation had begun,
The gold tinted hours stretched out, accordion-like,
as they never since have done.
Always room in their pockets, it seemed,
for yet another game of tag, a few extra moments
at the park. One more chance for a little boy or girl to coax a super-shy squirrel
to approach, and win a bit of leftover cracker jack.
wear longer skirts than now? Did they smile non-stop, were they really lovelier?
Close beside my companions and me for weeks on end,
swishing their airy petticoats charmingly,
were they chasing away shadows called cares,
making them wait patiently behind fences somewhere
until we grew older? Laura Scribner, Goshen