Summer of Nineteen Sixty Seven

“You have to keep breaking your heart until it opens.” Rumi It was the summer of 1967 and the sun was almost bran new me and Tony L. skipped to the corner to raid the candy store sometimes we bought a paper bag full of small penny candies other times it was a fancy box, full of Cracker Jack popcorn ... We grew up like sleuths on 2nd Avenue by the rubble of Miron sludging through dried clay and playing with colorful marbles As we played with washed up marbles, we grew up in time laughtering our days until the sober rays of adulthood arrived No one will ever forget that place on St. Michel dear bro, it was where the pine tree grew, when life was spanking new all the prizes that we won, are still laying on the concrete floor Written by : Mystic Rose