Sixteen. She Knickerbocker gloried the afternoon. Salt-slick. Sunburnt. Jukebox laughing. Strawberry syruped everything. Spun sugar rebellion through the teeth. Sherbet kissed. Spoon clinked. Feet not yet sliding the floor. That was the first taste of her. The body filed it. Smiled it. Thirty years it sat. Closed. Present. Platform 14. She gloried again... older now, the sweetness the same sweetness, the mouth remembering before the mind did. Something glowed the chest. Warm the way sixteen was warm. Jukebox still. Feet finding the floor this time. The body had always known what the decades pretended to forget. Sherbet doesn't age. Neither did this. -UpsilonA
This is a beautiful homage to a warm memory of an innocent time. Knickerbocker glories were such a luxury for me as a child. I’m in Ireland and I remember a diner opening up in my town owned by a “real American “🤣🤣. So, the ice-creams were the real deal. Thank you for this trip down memory lane.
Thanks for sharing n mmmmm i want this one hell of a Obtained by ICE cream sundae 😅💯