around the lazy Sunday afternoons...

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Around the lazy Sunday afternoons, When ladies smeared on lipstick for old movies, And men in their sports jackets, smoking pipes, Taking rounds of good time laughs. You can still smell the fresh cut lawns, And blown away dandelions floating like ghostly stars, Searching for another ground. There was still candy for five cents, And boys playing marbles, or trading comic books, Where the white picket fences were half real, And ice cream vendors sold fudgecicles for smiles, Instead of greedy greens.

Around the lazy Sunday afternoons, The drive-in was romantic, The jukebox played all my favorite songs, Commercial free. Under the golden orange glow of a setting sun, Slightly chilly in the shades, The new age poet offered me his coat, Genuinely warm, not wanting much in return. I never knew what i supposed at the time, Juanting cafes and chatting up over tea. That too much will stay away, Nostalgic and forgotten, swept away like leaves.

Around the lazy Sunday afternoons, I was insouciant, prancing healthy without weights, Gloom hasn't dared set in till I called, And i never did call either; There was no need. Finding beauty was easy as a count, Idealism placed high commands over the soothsayers, Shunned and gladly remained ignorant. Sitting low beneath the trees, Legs crossed and relaxed, Always a few lines came to me like echoes. How did I fail to ever guess, Nor the fading token people, That another turn to metal skies, Around the corner end Of the lazy Sunday afternoons.

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