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The summer brings thoughts and rest
When I write and wait for the man of the wooden flowerpots
Those he made with his hands
And the boy of the cattails baskets
He who lives down the river
I sit and listen Cohen and Aubry
And think of you
That are never so close or so far
But in the exact time and place
Strange kind of remembrances
Mix in harmony
Like the wine with the time
Hold hands and bloom again

I really like the reflective quality in this, Sandra....and how you've expressed what and how memories are. The scene you describe is very charming and appealing...."the man of the wooden flower pots that he made with his hands," and "the boy of the cattails baskets."

~ Lizzy

real life Lizzy.....thanks for your comments

That's what I thought, Sandra, with where you live......