The rest were born in spring or autumn,
I was Mama’s summer child.
Perhaps that is the very reason
I’m by summer days beguiled.
I counted hours until my birthday
On the seventh of July,
Rising crescendo of excitement
Before happy birthday high.
There were the gifts of lady-fingers
That my brothers helped me light.
Attention from my loved big brothers
Always kept my birthdays bright.
One week’s stay at Uncle Charlie’s
Playing with my favorite cousins,
Aunt Lillian, relaxed and loving
Baking cookies by the dozens.
Then back home to little sister,
Teaching alphabet and numbers,
Those sweet days of early childhood
I’m reliving in my slumbers.
Written: August 30, 2012
Copyright © Joyce Johnson