Читать книгу Beyond All Bearing - Susan Delaney Spear - Страница 12

It is July 1974:

four friends, a New York beach, and fireflies.

We swear we will be close forever and a day,

mountain roads, deer, and singing leaves,

four friends, a New York beach, fireflies,

transistor radios and talk of boys.

On mountain roads, under emerald leaves,

we chat on about our future lives.

Over the radio’s hum, we talk of boys,

mosquito bites, Bactine, and suntan lotion.

We chat on about our future lives,

college plans, our older selves as wives,

more mosquito bites, Let’s try Calamine.

I hide my fear of summer’s forward motion

and July’s dwindling days, no longer mine.

Gazing at the Adirondack sky,

I sense the sting that life and love might bring

and memorize that Adirondack blue.

(We swore we would be close forever and a day,

but that was years ago—forty Julys—)