We made our way along the river
and we sat down in the grass by the Eiffel Tower.
I was so happy we had met,
It was the age of no regret
Those crazy years,
that was the time of the flower power.
We had a fear of flying,
of growing old,
of slowly dying.
We took our chance,
like we were dancing our last dance.
Thank heavens; it finally rained.
Thoughts are heavieron rainy days,
but there is more peace to decipher them.
This is aid of Peter Rabbit teacups
and diary-writing with Anne and Helene.
Book bags full of words,
Percy's sea of monsters to distract.
Letters to be written, but never sent.
Knitted socks and flannel shirts for warmth.
Snuggles with Pooh.
No facades. No faking.
I can still recall,
Our last summer.
I can see it all,
walks along the Seine
laughing in the rain.
Our last summer
Summer ends two weeks from tomorrow.
whether I make tea for him or not.
xoxo the storyteller