younger julys

Meg Armstrong, Glyphs Contributor

Hang on for a minute...we're trying to find some more stories you might like.

Email This Story

blue star highway, and faded yellow lines

head against the window, as cars pass by

counting license plates, and faded stop signs

naming all the birds and gazing at the sky

july echoes off the evergreen trees

eyelashes still blond, (i was not yet thirteen)

cheap flip flops that account for grass stained knees,

match red sunburns and hair stained by chlorine

long days filled with sprinklers and porch swings

burning asphalt and the AC on high

playing pretend as royal queens and kings

skipping while raining as summer flew by

tans that long faded; no more playing pretend

how i wish those years did not have to end

Print Friendly, PDF & Email
1 Comment

One Response to “younger julys”

  1. Kyler Erezuma on January 21st, 2017 5:38 pm

    This poem makes me think about my Julys where I would do the same things Meg Armstrong would do. I would swim with my friends and my brother and I would count the license plates on our long drives on vacation to go see many the forts and battle sites of the American Revolution. Meg Armstrong did an excellent job capturing the mood of the pleasures of summertime and the feeling of how little time we have before we grow up.

If you want a picture to show with your comment, go get a gravatar.


Navigate Left
Navigate Right
younger julys