by Lauren Baum

Created on: May 30, 2008

The Summer Of Fifty Nine

It was the summer I turned sixteen, we ran swiftly ahead of time,
balanced on the edge of life, knowledge and innocence combined.

Holding hands, our bare feet dangled in stock tanks full of living gold.,
dragons hovered here before us in heated air, on water cold.

How well, how well, I still remember, the feel of your soft lips on mine.
a celebration of innocence lost, the long ago summer of fifty nine.

Wading the stream with stony bottom, how you laughed when I slipped and fell, but you knelt down and quickly kissed me, made me promise not to tell.

I chased you then, through fields of clover, and finally caught, you closed your eyes, and turned your flower face to me, I bent my head and claimed my prize.

Bees were buzzing through the clover, meadowlarks sang in the trees,
orange blossoms scent around us, was carried there upon the breeze.

Something changed, within that moment, some subtle thing had changed that day, an urgent need had come upon us, and childhood had slipped away

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