(Photo: Michael Bartlett)

“Growing Up in Southboro Park”

A landmark in my mind, forever there;
Southboro Park: a place not far from school
forever pasted in my memory’s share.
I do recall that day I was a fool.

The end of summer and a picnic planned.
My dress; a strapless, Lerner’s, stretchy bust.
My mother warned against such fashion-grand
for adolescent boys are curious.

And so we played a reckless game of tag.
Careening forth, he clutched my frock. I frowned,
appalled as any queen but there’s no lag
in laughter as, thread-bare, I tumbled down.

Oh, vivid still; my rosy cheeks and tears
amid the jeering pleasure of my peers.

iambic pentameter, picnic, poem, Poetry, Shakespearean sonnet, Sonnet, teenage picnic, verse