Saturday, March 08, 2008
Sunday Matinee
Every Sunday clock-strike-one
my brother and me
would walk down town
where at the weekly matinee
the hours simply flew away
When it rained
to get our Sunday best from stained
Dad would drive us there
Roy or the Everly's on 8-track
ripping up the air
One twenty-five in our pockets
was enough
to get us into the Star's Rocket
buy some popcorn
candy bars and a soda pop
to top it off
We'd sit there in the dark
wrapped up in the stories
secret crushes on the stars
until the lights went on
and time to go home
had come
On the long way back
our brains we'd rack
quizzing each other on everything to do with the big screen
or in case of a cliffhanger serial
speculating on what would happen in chapters yet unseen
Every Sunday clock-strike-one
my brother and me
would have a world of fun
©2008 Fenny
14:15 Posted in Shards Of Life | Permalink | Comments (5) | Email this | Tags: Poetry, Movies
Comments
What a sweet memory.
Posted by: Scott | Saturday, March 08, 2008
I love the whimsy of this! The line "ripping up the air" is great!
Most of all, I really enjoy the way the rhyme threads through the piece with abandon. One of my favourites, Fenny!
Kat
Posted by: Poetikat | Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Oh, those were the days, weren't they? Nice post!
Posted by: tumblewords | Wednesday, March 12, 2008
happy days beautifully recounted.
Posted by: keith hillman | Thursday, March 13, 2008
Hi,
I really liked your blog, especially Barbed Wire and Sunday Matinee! May I place a link to you on my blog?
-Maya.
Posted by: Maya | Monday, April 07, 2008
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