Salem Time

Days of your youth are long gone, yet some things take us back . . . Memories impressed forever like leaves in a book, In our mind's silent track. A cottage was our home for a week, when our parents got the time . . . It was another world which opened for us, As we got away from the city's bustle and grime. We slept upstairs; the attic was warm, as so was the woodburning stove . . . Breakfast was pancakes, eggs, and sausage, Prepared with the salt of our parents' love. The rooms were few but airy, outside was where we wanted to be . . . For this was our special playland place, Amidst the trees, birds, and humming bees. The lake, the sand, the pier so old; a swim in the water's deep blue . . . Remembering the badminton and volleyball games, And who tried to outscore who. Having to walk back on the dark and lonely road at night . . . From the fish fry, in our festive summer shorts, Making our way to the cottage, by the beam of an old flashlight. Those days of youth were filled with fun; carefree days of love and rhyme . . . Though we are young no longer, we keep treasured memories, Only in Salem Time.