"Mommee! He hit me!"
"Did not! She hit me first."
Onto the placid summer scene,
Two small tornadoes burst.
And Mom, with inward summer smile,
Plays referee once more,
"Go sit out on the porch a while,
And please don't slam that door!"
The words have barely hit the ground,
Or so it surely seems,
'Fore twenty years transform the sound,
To memories and dreams.
"Right there!" The memory's so clear,
As though it were today.
She speaks, as though they both could hear,
"Be nice. Go out and play."
Her children now are dads and moms,
With their kids bursting in.
And so her love full circle comes,
And summer smiles again.
(c) Copyright 1999, Greg Sanders