August’s void of evening breezes
capped a small park gorged with crowds.
Ride lights were glimmering circles,
teasing children with no tickets.
I envied friends certain of their beauty,
practiced in promoting romance.
A dreamer unsure of her dreams,
shy as a colt, afraid of my yearnings,
I pretended apathy toward the boy,
eyes smiling, who stood before me,
Today memory comes in cloud wisps,
but long ago under a luminous sky,
I clearly recall the handsome boy
who held my hand and walked me home.
I still smell the oil in his hair,
and hear the band play “Tenderly.”
~ Myrne Roe
Myrne Roe is a retired editorial writer and syndicated columnist who has been writing poetry for fifteen years. Her poems have been published in local and regional publications including ByLine Magazine, Voices of the Heartland, Words Out of the Flatlands and Kansas Voices. She also has published a chapbook, Ironing Out the Wrinkles
Guest editor: Denise Low, 2nd Kansas Poet Laureate, is author of twenty-five books, most recently Mélange Block (Red Mountain Press, Santa Fe). Low is past president of the Associated Writers and Writing Programs board of directors. Cream City Review nominated her fiction for a Pushcart Prize, 2014. She writes articles, blogs, and reviews; and she co-publishes a small press, Mammoth Publications. She teaches private professional workshops as well as classes for Baker U. Her MFA is from W.S.U. and Ph.D. is from K.U. She has British Isles, German, and Delaware Indian heritage. See more: www.deniselow.net http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/denise-low http://deniselow.blogspot.com
One thought on “1953 Wellington Wheat Festival by Myrne Roe”
I love this poem, Myrne. So evocative of a time long gone.