Their Day Will Last Forever - Trudie Shannon

Upon the summer soft shimmering air,
There are voices, fleet of foot calling invisibly.
And suddenly my own childhood re-emerges shyly
To sit quietly upon the yawning gate, observing.

Swiftly kinesthetic memories activate
To clamber and to climb compelling trees,
Rough rock faces and granite walls
To jump fearlessly from a million miles high
Into puddles and stinking tomato stalks.
To dunk small fingers into the hearts of jellyfish
And sugar bowls and cream
To capture cabous quicksilver flashes
And flies and grasshoppers
To feel sand between toes inside plimsolls
And salt from the sea drying on skin
And bathers, wet a zillion times, dry going home, clothes in the bag.

I take a breath and open my eyes.
Childhood has slipped from the gate.
The evening air is still warm and I know,
For the children shrieking happily,
Bather clad, on the swings
Their day will somehow, magically never end.

Trudie Shannon