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Our little house on Ethel Street

Remember me as a time of day:
daybreak, with songbirds,
when I rose singing
a morning song,
turning the tap for the swhish-swhish-swhish
of the sprinkler in the garden,
gazing at the blue friendly hills,
breathing in lake-scent and weeping willow
- and summer.
Back then, it was always summer.

I grew green things, those days,
and a family of leggy, hungry children.
They remember waking to my singing,
or to the furious tapping of my old Underwood
as I wrote my latest poem.

Those days,
we rode through town
in a line four bicycles long,
like a mother duck and her ducklings.
People stopped at the intersections
smiled at our wobbly passage
as we sailed through.

Think of me older, if you will,
as being always in the forest,
or  walking by the sea,
or writing a poem
in which I remember you
and you can remember
me.


for Kenia's prompt at Real Toads: to use a song title in a poem. I chose Remember Me as a Time of Day. Cool prompt.