The twang of strings
echo all around the yard.
Cousins are playing over there
in the sheltered garage.
The chairs have been set out.
Wooden, iron, and folding.
Mismatched but jovial
like the family they are holding.
We run along the porch
barefoot with dirty grins.
The summer nights are long
and the planks below us have become
the deck of our pirate ship.
There’s a tower out in the woods
that the older kids climb.
They yell at us from above
smiling and hiding their smokes
like it’s a crime.
Food on the table’s gone cold
but nobody cares.
Desserts all ready gone
even the dogs got their share.
Harmonies meld on the wind.
Dancing has started on the gravel floor.
Laughter and love shared by all,
a piece of the family core.
zeven writes 