Scott SimpsonSongs, Poems, Stories.

Scott Simpson · Poetry

Summer of Whistles

Earlier Poems

Selected Poems 1989 to 2009 · source pages 8

All poetry

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Source page 8

Summer of Whistles

We used to walk down the tracks

where it was so bright

the sun seemed to eat away the brown discarded

metal.

We made whistles out of some

(Summer of whistles)

until you found that dollar

and the day passed

while we were making plans.

The can we kicked home

echoed, and I looked expecting two other boys

to come around the corner

ahead, they never did--- never did I tell

you...

We came to my house

about the time the wind

tousled the trees and your hair

and I grew small under a darkening sky watching

you run fast down the blocks

till your speck turned

out of sight toward your

house.

Sometimes I almost cried.

I don't know why I never told

you...

That night, I knew you were listening to the

rumble and the rain.

I knew tomorrow would be dry.

I dreamed of you and your dollar bill, of the sun,

and rusty whistles. I dreamed that tomorrow...

I would tell you

how much I loved you.

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