Lost Days of Summer

I watched on her journey; the one she’d make alone; Down roads of pain and solitude on toward her final home. My mind went back those many years when we were both still young; The warm and endless summers long before our songs were sung. A pair of little tomboy girls with missing teeth and braids: Tattered jeans and sunburned arms with plans yet to be made. Far journeys that would take us to adventures each new day. Traveling through our summer world, exploring on the way. We swam in rivers dark and cool: ate berries picked with care. From prickly bush we’d snatch a few, but did not dawdle there. For there was much that must be seen and much more to be done, As we enjoyed the freedom that with summer seems to come. But mostly I remember the closeness that we shared. Secrets, dreams, a lasting bond; to each our soul we bared. And when the time for sleep would come we’d lie in sagging bed, With fresh air whispering on our cheeks, stars twinkling overhead. Each drifting off to well earned rest with plans for coming dawn, When once again our world would be all shiny, bright and warm. And we would walk dirt roads again, bare feet encased in grime, As summer days passed slowly and our greatest gift was time. But time turns out to be deceit: betrays us in the end. And we must face the awful truth; time never was our friend. I saw this as I watched her make her pilgrimage alone. I wanted so to help her on her lonely journey home. But we are each in solitude, at birth as well as death, And thus it’s all alone we are, when drawing our last breath. It’s then I felt such sadness, for she’d left our mortal shore, She’d slipped into a great unknown, her presence felt no more. The good Lord had then guided her through to her journeys end, She waits within a far off place , my uncle’s child . . my friend. And when I step from out this life, to one that’s yet to be, Perhaps lost days of summer are still there for her and me. © 2015 Diane Lefebvre