THERE ARE STRANGE THINGS DONE IN THE MIDNIGHT SUN
Copyright 2012 by Kimberly Cox, All Rights Reserved
Written for the lovely Katelan Foisy, to whom the author humbly offers its dedication.
Take me back to the days when we would swing
from the branches of dogwood trees,
run down to the dock with our minnow nets
to check the crab pots,
or in early summer, before the jellyfish,
jump off the end of the wooden dock
into Peachblossom Creek
We’d swim across the river to the sandbar
to play in the tidal pools
until we were called in for supper.
` ` ` No one ever tells children the truth.
It comes at some point and then,
“` ““ “
it happens slowly so you don’t notice
and once it’s dead,
` ` ` ` ` ` it’s gone forever.
Days you can never have back.
Freedom as pure as a summer’s evening
stripped away as naturally and steadily
as winter strips the earth of its green.
There are no more summer days
at the house
on Peachblossom Creek.
We all grew up, our parents grew old,
and our grandfathers passed away.
It’s been years since that land was sold
with its great magnolia trees
that bloom every spring
“` “ `
…if they’re still there.
…. Perhaps they bloom each year for another happy family?
` ` <“•ª*`¬ ))~~~~>>}
But I don’t dare
turn right off the Oxford Road,
the first right after Peachblossom Creek Bridge,
onto Old Country Club Road,
where the gates to the house are less than a mile in,
I don’t dare go back again
` ` ` The sight of how the years have changed it
` ` ` I probably won’t recognize it
The House, The HOME,
where we celebrated so many Christmases
and summer nights catching lightning bugs
those years when we were children
those times that can never happen again
as we scattered apart like leaves on the wind
Allay this, Time; at long last, grant rest here?
Thou keep’st a fair wager, well-played and won;
So, keep more fair in leaving each lost year,
By Thee, thus free from me; done, as is done.
Wretchèd I plea for my gamble and waste.
These are to Thee as pebbles for skipping;
Forever gone. To Thy sea—Pure, still chaste!
They are to me as precious pearls, weeping.
Alas, I see Time’s purpose: Retrospect.
Alack, for Youth and inexperience;
Assuage, ephemeral years, due respect;
Anoint, Thy pebbles here; mark, their conscience.
For Time doth win its years: harsh, just and fair;
Lest all years hence be lost to more despair.
Written as a poem prior to a weekend playing music and jamming with friends up in the mountains, the song it became in 1998/1999 is lost with the cassette tape-recording. I can still play it back in my mind and before it fades from my memory, at least in some way, the lyrics may live on. I dedicated it to Kristen K and if you’re out there, lovely red-haired lady, then it’s you, me and ‘THE ROACH’ keepin’ it smokin’.
I hung up the phone last night
You had told me everything was all right
Then why the pain of fear and fright touch my heart?
I remember the last days of summertime
We were children in our innocence and in our minds
Do you remember that fateful day
When we learned about the ways that a human being can prey
We were fine ‘til we heard that noise
Underneath of the apple tree in your yard
Its funny how we never make any sense…
You came to me in a dream last night. Your illusion reflected in a pool of light.
Asked me if I would pause to catch a dream.
You took my hand and we tumbled down
a flight of stairs until we reached the ground.
The grass was soft beneath my feet.
It was then that you turned and ran away. Leaving me…what to say?
What does it mean?
And the air turned cold as I walked all alone on a road of broken cobblestone.
I heard your voice. From far away. And I called to you. To come back and play. But I couldn’t understand the answer that you gave.
So I told my legs to run. Faster than they had ever done. Towards your voice ‘cause I’d made the choice that I would never leave your side.
Look back. As I turned my head and the wind blew cold. And we froze.
How was I supposed to know?
How was I supposed to know?
I remember the last days of summer in our lives. In our innocence we disbelieved in time.
And you lost me. And you lost me when I left you.
And you lost me. And you lost me ‘cause I loved you.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.
Copyright 1999, 2012 by Kimberly Cox