Two foot tall Malibu lights flash

intermittently as they slowly come to life,

lighting the way to wood paneled wannabe mansions,

and signaling the end of our daily adventures. 

The last of the hold outs, we huddle beneath them

with our jacket hoods over the top… giggling

and telling spooky stories in our makeshift tent. 

The first call to dinner comes but we ignore it…

knowing full well in ten minutes there will be another.  

We talk excitedly about our upcoming mud ball fight,

our impressive arsenals, and then taunt and laugh

hysterically while imagining each other’s demise. 

Darkness falls as the second call beckons more intently!

If we wait for the third there will be consequences along with it. 

So with sore butts, skin pitted through our clothes

from the gravel, we hop up say our goodbyes and

rush toward home calling out promises for tomorrow. 

With each footfall we push a little harder…

so that when we reach the door it appears as though

we made the effort for that home cooked meal. 

(For Billy)

Copyright 1/20/2011

Dani Heart