In My Youth || Lindsey Jablonski

I skipped along the sidewalk,
my sandals clacking along the cement.
I run through the sprinklers,
allowing the water to destroy my hair.
The sound of laughter sings
as well as the ice cream truck.
I dig into my pockets,
searching for some change.
I stop when I see the truck.
A smile spreads across my face.

Fresh ice cream plastered on my chin,
I skip back towards home,
making sure to not step on the cracks,
wouldn’t want to break my mother’s back.
I run through the sprinkles again,
this time
allowing it to clean my face.
My sandals now scuffed,
the clacking continues.
I stood in my front yard.
I couldn’t hear the ice cream truck,
the sounds of laughs faded.
The sun descended,
allowing the night to consume it.
I ran back into the house,
hopeful for tomorrow.

This was originally published in Fall 2017 edition of The Helix.

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