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Gypsy Summer

by Melina Raven Maness Diebold

I remember that summer
when I collected your kisses
and all those rose petals
burgundy and blood-red
like they were silver dollars

I paid my way with saved up lunch money
just so we could see
the Sunday Matinee

The minutes marched on
or at least they seemed to
on that grey-faced clock

That was the summer we shared
cookies and heartbeats
and stole glances
from behind blushed cheeks
It was the summer we ran away
from the year before


Posted on 07/20/2002
Copyright © 2022 Melina Raven Maness Diebold

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