Bird

When the fire’s blowing smoke on the first night of camp; the world had changed color by then
We’d stop singing songs and start fanning the air as the ranks of mosquitoes descend.
We were all seeking refuge from everyday trends
From school bus crowd violence where no one defends you
In this place folks were different, and might be like friends.
So we lived to the fullest and defy the end.

I’m too old for sleeping in earlier hours so I walk to the lake in the dark.
My flashlight beam searching in hopes that I’d find you; in the shadows lurk wishes for something to spark
There perched on a picnic bench shivering white
You and I talk for hours under shooting star light
The trees drew in closer as our words took flight
Sometimes miracles happen; I could die happy tonight…

The world woke up singing impossible languages hidden by mist on the rise
But I found the sun streaking in every window; each day a new plan to try catching your eyes.
A slow song was playing someone asked you to dance
I heard a song in my head said: “You just missed your chance.”
Walked in heart-pounding darkness as if in a trance
The next week I ask, and slowly you nod at my glance…

The summer swam by time tumbled down hill over grass, over woods, over sky.
Then we sang our goodbyes; one more twig in the fire to keep all our memories alive.
We would write letters—I was keeping you near.
Although I never told you, I hoped it was clear.
You fell in love with my best friend the very next year.
All my sandcastle hopes washed by high tides of tears.

When the fire’s blowing smoke or light dims in the lamp; see the world changing color again.
I can look back after climbing that hill—would I still do the things I did then?
From the eastern oak forests to the Florida bays
Life like weathered stone wears miles and years on the way.
But the magic those summers gave is still tucked away
Where impossible dreams like a bird on my shoulder stay…

Copyright Tracy S. Feldman, All rights reserved