Root Beer Float Afternoon

a poem of summers past

It was one  of those
Kind of afternoons
When ball games were heard
From open windows

And houses had porches
And porches had swings
Where voices murmured softly
Into velvet humidity

It was the most precious of things
In the most treasured of times
It was a root beer float…
Kind of afternoon

Reviews

[The White Wolf]

We need to bring these kinds of summers back, David! I could seriously go for a root beer float right now :)