Those Warm Summer Nights

I wished upon a star one night and your face it did appear,

For I was in a dream quite deep and far from where you stood, not near.

 

I looked at you across the Bijou,

And wanted to bring you close.

 

But the saint of darkness said to me,

It’s Voodoo brother that you’re messing with,

And not the Holy Ghost.

 

The gators were all swimming around, and the coons were in the leaves,

The fireflies lit up the dark black night like twinkle lights on Christmas eve.

 

Snakes were hanging from the cypress like licorice in a candy store.

Cicada was singing, the crickets chimed in and the chorus it took a hold once more.

 

It’s a Southern night somewhere down by the berm on the old mill creek,

The place to be on Saturday eve when you have no place to sleep.

 

Where dreams of love smell like jasmine and sweet summer wine,

And the stars in heaven look down upon two lovers both entwined.

 

Atop the lives of those that are searching for a yellow moon and a sweetheart to hold,

On the shimmering waters that rushed by this, my sweet Carolina home.

 

Now as the years have passed me by, I still often think of you,

The nights when love was in our hearts and the smell of your perfume.

 

How we would wrestle in the backseat of that old rusty car back then,

And end up lying together out of breath, staring at the bright shining stars within.

 

Time is a wonder and a horrible thing as it erases days, takes memories away and leaves hearts wanting the past once again.

 

But in all the years that we had, and the days that are now long gone,

I still think of you, those warm summer nights, and times when we were young.

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Johnny Johnstonhttp://www.blufengr-art.com/
An artist/writer as well as graduate of the University of South Carolina with degrees in journalism/20th Century American Literature, and retired senior executive of several international hotel/resort corporations, Johnny is the product of the south having been raised in the ever-changing transient lifestyle of a Carolina coastal resort. A point where he discovered, within his 300-year-old heritage and the world's dramatic social/cultural shifts during the late '60s to early 80’s an ambitious hunger and overwhelming curiosity to touch, see and become a participant in the virtually unlimited possibilities offered to those who wish for and seek life experiences. A journey which when hearing its details initially makes one a bit skeptical, questioning its validity as it is hard to imagine that incidents such as these may have crossed one man’s lifetime. This is the fodder required to step into zones exposing one's personal inner self, which many of his paintings and the words he writes do, openly. An ability to see and hear the tragic, beautiful, accomplished, exciting journey in a life free of inhibitions allowing others the opportunity to live vicariously and become, through his works, a part of its future. His larger works which have been featured in several Colorado and Fredericksburg Texas galleries and resorts have produced a number of collectors and fans. However, over the years, his paintings are mostly viewed by friends, enthusiastic new artist encountered on the streets or a small number of acquaintances he meets when dining in local cafés with his wife.

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  1. Such a beautiful story! Time can be both a blessing and a curse. Thank you for sharing this piece. I could imagine what it would feel like to be sitting by the Bijou on a warm summer night. A beautiful feeling when it is 30 degrees out side my house!!!

  2. Johnny, aside from your usual poetic brilliance there was the tenderness of love you shared with somebody else who occupied a special place in your heart. You have painted very vivid images of the South which is a part of our great country I know little about except what I pick up from Larry, and yourself.

    • Thank you Len. It’s all about the senses. Although I enjoy writing about love and a youthful past, I am more inclined to look deeper into life writing works like the piece prior to this “Lifted Up On High” and “Departing Rains” or “One” where the words hold a much deeper underlying meaning. I hope you are well. I always look forward to new posts from your typewriter… JJ

      • Johnny – My wife fell on 1/5 and broke the ball of her shoulder. So, I have been nursing her back to health. Don’t know when I will be able to start writing again. I miss the creativity and hope I can get back to it soon. But glad to see you writing again.

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