That Saturday in Summer

Summer’s sun beat down on my head

As two best friends wandered, wherever our feet led

Straight up the gravel road, past the huge shed

That stood idly staring at our vacant school.

*

Precariously perched atop the fence, near the gates

Dangling our legs, hands waving at our mates

We chattered endlessly on about our pet ‘hates’

And the ‘Mean Girls’ who thought they were ’Cool’!

*

Half an hour later, ambling down the green hill

We each grabbed a long chain swing… you’ll find them there still

Pendulums flying to and fro, or spinning sickeningly, swift enough to thrill

Anticipating an adrenaline rush… each screaming crazily like a fool.

*

Next stop was a ride on our friend’s flying fox

Hands gripped tightly above my head wearing windblown curly locks

Hurtling down the hill, across the babbling stream's slippery rocks

To be deposited safely at the bank, like a precious jewel.

*

Sounds of our laughter rang in the air

As we floated down that hill without a care

What fun we had, taking turns, happy to share

'Til, exhaustion set in... my body ran low on fuel.

*

Zooming down, down, down was sweet and easy

But… clambering back up that slope, so slick and greasy

Puffing and panting, sweat dripping… it sure wasn’t breezy

Dragging the flying fox back to the hilltop, like a pack mule.

*

A ‘cunning fox’, I flew down the hill, grinning like a clown

Then insisted my hapless buddy walk on down

“But that’s not fair!” She called back with a frown

I held my ground… oblivious! How could I be so cruel?

*

She insisted, “Bring it back up, then we’ll go on our way!”

“As if! And let you do the same?” I responded in dismay

Back and forth the words shot, but nothing did sway

Either one of us from our stubborn stance in that duel.

*

We, the best of friends, walked home silent… not uttering a word

Unbelievable! Both my bad behaviour and even more absurd

To discover decades later, her memory of this is so dim and blurred

What a true friend she was is, and me… what a ‘Tool’!

*

My memory lingers long of that ‘clever’ trick

Most recollections fade like the mist, vanish in a flick

This one’s crystal clear… oh to be an amnesiac!

But far better to live by “The Golden Rule”.

*

Author's note: Five fleeting decades later, my longsuffering friend recollects her reply as being: "That's not fair! How dare you pick on the weaker one!" My response was incredulous laughter. Hilarious to ever consider her as 'the weaker one'! I'm most grateful for that 'weaker one' sticking by me all these years.

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