Midsummer's Night Nostalgia

Midsummer’s Night Nostalgia

I remember once; The softness of the grass, the whistling of the chivalrous wind, waltzing with Mom’s hair. The light shining against the warmth of her eyes, the ochre shade of a fresh pot of coffee, inviting me over. Like the great wings of eagles, her arms swoop swiftly around me. Eyes glued to the sky, we sit huddled upon the Earth’s silken blanket, silently waiting for the thunder of Prometheus’s fire that sets the sky ablaze every Fourth of July. Boom boom! Go the launchers, far off in the distance where not a soul can hear the Boom boom! of the blooming effervescence that struggles to erupt from my chest. Pop pop pop. Go the golden drops of celestial rain that dive gracefully from the sky like the first rays of epiphany and enlightenment. Pop pop pop. Go my eyes, wide and round as a baby owl’s, ready to take its first flight.

Badum badum. Go the luminous explosions, harmonizing with the beat of the soldiers of freedom and their rhythmic drums, marching through the immaturity of my mind liberating each thought, each dream, that lays entangled within. Crackle crackle. Go the swirls of light that gloss over my small, ever-brightening body. The euphonious symphony of sounds serenades me, as I break free from Mom’s suddenly suffocating embrace. Then silence. My tongue still tingling with the stimulating flavor of the extraordinary dark ocean of the night sky that Boom boom’s and pop pop pop’s, breathing its dulcet drops of freedom and maturity, penetrating the deepest parts of me. I remember once; childhood. Ephemeral as the bursting flames Of a firework, sinking into the vast canvas of the ocean’s stygian waters.