The Last Sprinkler Dance, by Amy Stumpfl

The Last Sprinkler Dance 
by Amy Stumpfl

We emerged through slamming screen doors
that our fathers never got around to fixing.
Bright colored blossoms in pigtails – all arms and legs,
pushing the season in sensible, well-worn swimwear.
The cool air shocked still-tan skin, but the low sun was kind
as we dodged icy droplets and shared freezer-burned Bomb Pops.
Goosebumps glistened as we giggled and squealed,
not knowing this would be our last dance beneath the sprinklers.
Soon, Barbies would give way to boys and broken hearts.
and friendships would fade and scatter with the leaves.
But for now, our world felt safe, easy and unscripted.
Every day was a do-over, and home was as close
as the next slamming screen door.

 

 

 

Amy Stumpfl is a freelance writer, an avid reader and reformed drama queen. She reviews theater for The Tennessean, and is obsessed with her marvelous husband and children, as well as Nashville’s amazing arts scene.

RWJ issue 4

more rwj

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s