Mine

Beatles songs,
baseball cards
the aroma of a
fresh-mowed lawn,
pungent sweetness
of burning leaves

lake-bottom mud
spurting through
summer toes

Gelatinous frogs.

Hot beach sand
cool July evenings
and the first
non-parental hand
ever held

A specific summer.

Tactile youth. You.

Secured

We kept colorful marbles
in old Mason Jars, pilfered
with Grandma’s blessing

rabbit’s feet and other
youthful treasures smelled
like Grandpa’s Dutch Masters
under that cool flip-top lid

Our baseball cards were safe
beneath our beds, in rubber-
band locked P.F. Flyer boxes

our glass and cardboard
personal Fort Knoxes