Once Upon

Upon a time I owned every summer. I held copyrights on clear sunny mornings and long timeless days. Young girls that, upon a time, had laid down in the long, sweet grass with a boy, and hawks that led to the far ahead, path-finding for sneakers, I knew them all. Then a summer light began to leak from cold fingers. The slow dead of night wrote many a head-dream for the sleepless, it was then that emerging truths recalled that some sunny summers were only fiction; were tales stolen from another boys life, and some summers were too real to be revisited, for they lived still in a black and white horror movie. Other summers borrowed their sunshine, subleasing girls not laid with, and loaning hawks that never flew, they were ‘upon a time’ props. Maybe, upon a time, we all had magic flying sneakers that could enter any summer day we chose …maybe.