Root beer float afternoon

It was one of those
kind of afternoons

When ball games were heard
From open windows

And houses had porches
And porches had swings

Where voices melted softly
Into velvet humidity

It was the most treasured of times
In the most precious of climes

It was a root beer float
...Kind of afternoon...

Magnificent

You captured a time and a place and brought
it alive with your words. As a reader it brought
me to those moments I had my first real
root beer soda and float. Just wonderful David.
raskin

Your style....

David o Whalen was what I was shooting for Raz: very few words but a lot of feeling. Credit to your influence!

Nah, I don't think so

This is your style. You establish a setting, a time, and allow
the reader to come to their own feelings. I've done a lot of
reading of the imagists and many of their poems have
a meandering quality. We follow them through their words
and the images and emotions they set down on paper. But
it is our own experiences that make the images worthwhile.
You took something common and simple and elevated it
to an experience. That's pretty good.
raskin

Is to!...Is to!!

David o Whalen ezactly what you do, so neener-neener to you! (and a merry Christmas to you to)

Our Town

David,

This reminds me of lines from a play called, "Our Town".

The stage manager of this play is the narrator and it all takes place in a small town; it is a very American town with real families.

This has a very nice feel to it. It is so beautiful that the lines just melt in your mouth.

I love root beer floats.

Very fine writing.

Merry Christmas!

Kathy :o)

Thanks Kath....

David o Whalen sometimes less is more. I tried to keep it as simple as possible and let the readers make it more than it really is. Appreciate the comment! (and Merry Christmas) Hope ya noticed I used none of that politically correct "Xmas or Yuletide" B.S.

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