Sarsaparilla Sundays

I Dream of Sarsaparilla Sundays

I dream of  Sarsaparilla Sundays,                                 

 in the olden days,

 sitting on the back porch,

sipping sarsaparilla in a mason jar,
 eating fried chicken and black-eyed peas
 A Sarsaparilla Sunday,
 in the olden ways,
 parking at the drive-in,
 watching Lucy and Desi Arnez
  putting  the hood back on the old gray car
calling doodle bugs and fighting fleas,,
wading in the creek up to our knees.
Sarsaparilla Sundays come now every blue moon.
Sarsaparilla Sundays are gone too soon.

 V. Wright 2011