Lily-white days, the Summer’s filled,
the year was forty-one.
In creeks, in brooks, in meadows clean,
the cords of youth were spun.
Those lazy days, those barefoot days,
we played on dusty roads.
In tall green grass ‘neath night-time sky,
we searched the mystic code.
When shooting stars by chance would fly
with temping tails of light,
we caught them in an old fruit jar
and rode them out of sight.
Marcus Omer got serious about writing after he retired in 1997. He draws his inspiration from the many emotions we experience in life. He has published Of Sunshine and Clouds with iUniverse and The Winding Road with Shadow Poetry. He’s also published in Snippets, The Magic of Words and several issues of Golden Words.