Three Summers

Do you ever think back on
those good old days
when we could sleep on
the beach, if we so chose
beneath stars ..
And if it ever dared rain
or to blow even,
neath the warm yet still
salty and rough
tarpaulined hull, of some
upturned
old fisherman’s craft ..
And where, if my memory
still serves,
I seem to recall, we spent
three whole summers
just living and loving like that ..