Sunday, August 18, 2013

Summer of Seventy Eight


                    ... he drove a volkswagen beetle
                                                  
                                                           ... green as the woods behind his house
                            
                            ... we ate with our fingers / fish from an iron skillet
                                                                  
                                                                                               ... bare feet on cool wooden floors




            

8 comments:

  1. I like this one!
    Very nice and great shot!

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  2. Replies
    1. This is among my favorites ... Thanks, Nancy.

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  3. Nice poem. I like it. I like the simplicity and the lightness of carefree memories from what was a pleasant past memory etched forever on the brain. Something tells me this was a thoroughly enjoyable time in your life. I love memories like that. It reminds me of a past lover who would cook breakfast naked. Well except when she was frying bacon then she would wear only an apron. Thanks for jogging my memory.

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    Replies
    1. Thank you, Steven. It's the simplicity of sun lit days that remains etched in my memory ... and I still like to cook in an iron skillet. Thanks for a nice start to the morning.

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  4. Nice memory from an easier time.

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