The sweet scented honeysuckle climb in the salty sea air.
The lilies of the valley don the tiny white caps that they wear.
The bold blue hydrangeas match the ocean blue sky.
The profusion of mint that Grandma will drop in tea for those who stop by.
A little girl so happy under the hot summer sun.
Sand in her little brown toes, to the water’s edge she’ll run.
Seashells to gather, buckets of water to be filled.
For the moat of the castle that the children will build.
No sound to be heard, but the ocean’s loud roar.
And the “good humored” bells that no child could ignore.
Sea birds squawking, just waiting to be fed.
Mother sharing gossip, with a silly hat upon her head.
Barefoot walks for a comic book to the local candy store.
And cold creamy milkshakes, that her brother would pour.
Strolls on the boardwalk, merry-go-rounds and cupie dolls won.
Skee-ball and the penny arcade, cotton candy until the day is done.
Damp starry nights, lacy curtains blown by the breeze.
A tan sleepy head, and little sun-burnt knees.
Hopscotch and bicycles and little puppet shows.
Lemonade stands and painted shells and skimpy summer clothes.
Suddenly the morning is so cold, boxes everywhere, signs of summer packed away.
The sounds the little girl hears now, usher in another day.
Early morning busy sounds, book bags, school lunches, father’s briefcase on the floor.
Breakfast eaten quickly, heavy woolen sweaters at the door.
From her fourth-floor window, the buildings seem so tall.
She hears the roar of the elevated train, so much louder than before.
City buses and chimney smoke as she looks down the street.
Sensible school shoes, not sandals upon her little feet.
Different friendly faces say “welcome back.” The little girl is home once more.
But in her heart, she will remain at her honeysuckle shore.