tea length

We all need to go back to an old screen door
So we can hear the sound of it slamming some more

And those famous words, “stop letting the flies in”
Not giving it a second thought and doing it over again

Catching fireflies after dark and putting them in a jar
And lying out on a blanket and wishing upon a star

Listening to the whop-per-wills calling every night
The serenading of crickets, a special, kind of quiet

Running through the meadows in the sun kissed dew
Climbing high up in a tree with a better angle view

Can’t you just see those June bugs tied with a string
Or swinging really high on that old, tire swing

Going fishing in the creek with that little fishing pole
Enjoying a hot, summer day at that ole swimming hole

Or riding that old, rusted bicycle with nary a brake
Running through the thickets, never thinking of a snake

Oh the joy of blackberry picking and eating a juicy pie
Worth every chigger but wishing they’d go bye, bye

Playing a good game of softball on a Sunday afternoon
Our mothers waiting supper, hoping we’d be home soon

Running through the broom sage in the cool, fall breeze
Sliding down snowy hills till our hands and feet would freeze tea length

Nary a trail or sapling did we miss, if we had to crawl
And scraping off that beggar lice was no fun at all

We all need to go back to that special, old place
Where all of our footsteps we can happily retrace

And listen to the sound of that old screen door
Slamming, slamming just like before