Dandilion Days

I sit in the hot summer sun
watching the dadilion fuzz float by,
Remembering you and that you would have been 97 this month.

The carpet of yellow clumps in the grass

Remind me of another summer day some fifty something years ago.

We came back from a family ride, Maybe to see the grandparents.  Some of the neighbors came running over                                                                                                                    When we drove into the yard.
 Seems there had been some concern
About our welfare while we were gone.
They said it sounded like someone was shooting up the place.

When we got upstairs there was a funky odor.
You went running up the attic stairs
To find your special stash was gone.

I would be willing to bet
If you go to that old gray house
By the park and go up into the attic,
You would still be able to find
Splinters of glass imbedded into the rafters,
Leftovers from the day your dandilion wine
Lost it's cool in the hot summer attic.

Susan M Bergeron

July 2010