Long Island Summers
by Lauren Taub Cohen
The sweet and sudden smell
of waffle cones combined
with the saccharine scent of
ice cream causes a smile to melt
across my face.
In the darkened galaxy
of my youth
there were twinkling moments
of simple delights
like licking a scoop
of mint chocolate chip ice cream
precariously perched upon a cone.
The taste of a poppy seed bagel
lathered with cream cheese and
salted by the sea breeze.
Back then I used to pretend
I was a mermaid
and always felt a sense of homecoming
each time I ran
from the sandy shore
into the arms
of the whimsical waves
that carried me farther and farther
away from my landlocked
reality.
At night
I snuggled up
against the summer sounds
of crickets and cicadas
celebrating each night
until dawn awoke
and stretched herself
across the satin sky.
This was heaven.
This was a haven.
This is why
I return.
