Poem: Fireflies

Remembering my Calvin-andHobbes seven year-old life and the smells that today can transport me instantly back.

Fireflies He remembers Remembers roller skates that clamped on, the key turned so tight, shoe toes curled, flying down cement sidewalks, wings spread, skinned knees and elbows, breathless On fire with being seven years old Remembers the smell of summer-hot tar Pressing pennies and fingers, fascinated at this early form of publishing Fireflies chased before the Silent Spring, caught in eager hands, stuffed in Mason jars Magic in glass, spilled out and made free before bed Remembers the first leather jacket, pleaded for Expensive His family wasn’t poor, but these were war years, saving bacon fat, tin cans, rationing and Victory Gardens The jacket pulled off and left, its very first day Nine bucks, and fifty years later he still remembers Remembers flags hung in neighbors windows by gold cord A blue star for each son at war and some had several lost or missing, the blue stars turned to gold Windows passed quietly, whispered and cried over with nine year-old tears, while playing at war and watching neighbor’s parents, quickly grown old Fifty years later, a crew patching streets half a world away, the smell of hot tar and memories, skinned knees, pressed fingers and fireflies, slammed screen doors, stars turned blue to gold nine dollar jackets and sons of neighbors lost The breaking wave of a lifetime, remembered in a smell

This poem is included in Jim Freeman's poetry collection THE SMELL OF TWEED AND TOBACCO available here in print or as an e-Book in your favorite formats.