where the writers are
Summer Twilight on Idlewood Avenue 1955
Lou Allin

Recently I was able to get in touch with a friend from my childhood in Cleveland. I hadn't seen her since we graduated from high school. I learned to my gladness that her mother was still alive and nearly eighty-eight, but that she was very ill. Not long after, she passed away. Looking at the on-line obituary and the gallery of pictures of Delores and her family over the years, I felt as if fifty-seven years had melted away. I was still out there on Idlewood Avenue, playing tag with Sharon and her brother, tagging the hydro pole first in our games. This is a poem I sent to Sharon, aka The Baron.


Summer Twilight on Idlewood Avenue 1955


Delores stands by the door,

Setting sun in her gold flame of hair.


On the pavement, children hide and seek,

Racing to tap the power pole to win.

One by one they veer off like swallows

Sheltering for the night.


"Sharon and Rob. Time for bed."

Her voice has quiet pride.

When they come thumping up,

She enfolds them into her arms,

Feels their heartbeats echo hers.


She shoos them inside

And shuts out the dark.

Soon all is quiet.

All are safe.

Now she is called home, too.