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Poem

Was a swimming hole down south
     where the bullheads chewed your feet,
Though there's no need to worry
     if you didn't go too deep.
There were no steps to exit,
     just a mud wall you must climb;
It was said you could swim naked
     if no one payed any mind.

The party's never ending
     underneath a summer moon,
Swimmers gather round the fire
     where the empty cans are strewn.
Someone picks up a guitar,
     soon the gathered crowd's in song;
Everyone seems happy now
     'cause they feel they belong.

Far off in the distant view
     there's the sight of flashing lights,
They're coming to put an end
     to another of these nights.
The last of drinks are taken,
     clothes are thrown in the back seat;
Messages are passed around
     about when they will next meet.

The girls will buy new swimwear
     and the guys will buy more beer,
They may find another spot
     or they might just come back here.
Summer will come to an end,
     autumn days and college calls;
High school days will be no more
     as time moves like waterfalls.

That old swimming hole's still there
     even after all these years,
It's said the bullheads still bite
     underneath the new built piers.
Sometimes the clan still gathers
     in secret, or so they think,
But now days the guys wear suits
     while the women folk wear mink.

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