Eight tracks and underage,
hard rock for the teenage,
one summer eve, surrounded by kings.
They rolled their tokes,
shared loose smokes,
and bragged, of sweetheart flings.
I watched all night,
as they pal and fight.
Curse, and say foolish things.
Like “Play it again.”
said my uncle to a friend,
as we sat, listening, to those guitar strings.
Just because, I take a breath,
leaf-peeping through autumn hues.
Chilled zephyrs race tears down a single cheek,
that dewy brisk, restorative.
I wander along the many tints and tones,
embracing change that’s before me.
Just a little further…
and I’ll catch the harvest moon winking.