Summers spent along the creek
We’d run down the sandy path
Heading to the waters’s edge
Where we kept our homemade rafts.

Two inner tubes tied together
Made quite a sturdy boat
As long as there were no holes made
We would stay afloat.

The water cold, the current swift
It would carry us for miles
The look upon our faces
Brings back a pleasant smile.

Catfish, turtles, snakes and frogs
We all shared the summer’s pleasures
Who knew those days would prove to be
A life memory to treasure.

At night we sat around the fire
Telling spooky stories
Toasting marshmallows on a stick
Some frightening, some gory

In the morning, up at dawn
I could hear the bacon frying
The smell of breakfast fills the air
Our towels on the line still drying.

Climbing down the wooden ladder
From our treehouse made of scraps
Sitting round the table
My baby brother in mama’s lap.

Trips to Europe, expensive vacations
Nothing ever topped those days
Summers spent at the water’s edge
In the heat of the summer haze.


Image from Google Images:

Author: Patty Richardson

Writer: Film scripts, poetry, short stories.

11 thoughts on “THE WATER’S EDGE”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: