they pulled out early that morning,
her parents arguing about
which route was fastest
and her little brother making
faces at the back of her head.
she didn’t care.
the summers at the lake were
her favourite times of the year.
the skies were the same colour
as an old, faded pair of jeans.
the clouds, fluffy and white,
reminded her of the cotton candy
her daddy always bought at the fair.
the flowers seemed more vibrant,
and the trees danced their slow waltz
in the fresh, salt-tangy breeze.
she loved these summers because
they spent them as a family.
she also loved them because she could
explore manson’s abandoned mine shaft.
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