Swimming Lessons

by Dixiedaisy

Occasionally,
I take a different route
One that takes me past that little gray house
in the neighborhood we grew up in

To the tiny yard where a green plastic pool
served as summertime entertainment,
and the water hose lay dormant
discarded as a past time.

An age when shrill laughter
from our eight year old frames
echoed across freshly mowed lawns
and crept through kitchen windows
in the hour before supper

A place where an oak tree
doubled as base and held the tire swings
where pinky promises were made
prematurely

A time when childhood was swaddled
in sun dried towels after a bubble bath
and crisp sheets warmed by moonlight
awaited Magellan minded dreams

To those sleepy morning
wrapped in flannel jammies
and smells of maple syrup covered pancakes
wafted through air on ribbons of Autumn

Oh, how I wish I hadn't taken this path today,
to a place where past and present collide
a time before we had to learn
to sink or swim