A Little Taste

Memorial weekend, when I was a kid,
Was a time that we more than embraced;
For the summer, like simmering soup on a stove,
Let us sip just the tiniest taste.

We spent all our summers on grassy green fields
In a bungalow far from the city;
And in May, when the holiday time rolled around,
We piled into the car, feeling giddy.

The journey felt long and we could not contain
All that bubbling anticipation.
When we finally tumbled out free from the car,
We were frantic with exhilaration.

We flung the door open, our breathing on hold,
And quick ‘round the room glances ranged;
And then we’d relax with a sigh of relief,
Because nothing, of course, had been changed.

We ran out to search for our summertime pals,
Made note of the ways each had grown;
Then returned to our bungalow, snuggling down
To the best sleep I ever have known.

For the nights were quite cold, so we bundled ourselves,
Oh, how long ago all of it seems!
And we drifted to sleep, feeling more than content,
Into look-ahead summertime dreams.

The rest of the weekend I can’t quite recall.
So many things time has erased;
But I’ll never forget those Memorial Days
And the joy of the summer’s first taste.