The Summer Yard
Twelve trees out back our forest deep
a place to fantasize,
and Tarzan’s jungle it became
Beneath those summer skies,
where I was Jane. We’d swing from trees
on knotted rope grape vines,
and roar our warbling jungle calls
within the yard’s confines,
Or putt putt golf course using bricks
and orange juice cans, we built
our nine holed run with obstacles
there in the root bound silt
and charged our friends five pennies each
to play the shaded course
with plastic clubs and Wiffle balls
from five and dime resource.
We built a town of boards and bricks
our domain we’d convert
traversing with our match box cars
those streets we carved from dirt
A holly tree was my retreat
From teasing brothers fled
I’d dream there in my smooth barked lair
and often times I read
Of Cherry Ames or Vickie Barr
to their worlds I’d retire
and ponder possibilities
of futures to aspire
This was our kingdom and we reigned
Neath sassafras and elm
Three city kids each summer ruled
This shady perfect realm
poem by B.V. Dahlen
Added by Poetry Lover
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