Hometown Parade
I’d like to stand again on a tree-lined street
on a sunny summer day
in nineteen fifty-six. My joy would be complete
when the high school band begins to play.
The majorettes in their tasseled boots,
little short skirts, and ponytailed hair
march and twirl amid claps and whoops
and toss their batons in the air.
The high school band marches along,
all spiffy uniforms and shiny brass,
playing a medly of marching songs.
The crowd applauds them as they pass.
Little kids march in place,
imitating the high school stars,
as mostly harmonious notes fade away,
we see big-finned convertible cars.
Chariots of small-town beauty queens
seated atop their mobile thrones,
regal in reds and blues and greens,
rhinestone tiaras and strapless gowns.
Poofey skirts spread like shimmering clouds,
queens smile ruby-lipped smiles and wave their hands
at the whistling, cheering crowds.
Then comes the mayor, his car equally grand.
Veterans of Korea and World War Two,
in uniforms of army, navy, and marines,
march behind the red, white, and blue.
Faded dreams of glory, memories of battle scenes.
The children in town are invited
to walk in the parade with their pets.
Children come down the street excited,
dogs wearing ribbons around their necks.
Farm wagon floats are dandy,
transformed by crepe paper festoons.
Business floats are throwing candy.
Church choirs sing patriotic tunes.
Jonah sits near a crepe paper whale,
a Forest Service float features Smokey Bear,
4-H kids perch on hay bales,
Historical tableaux are everywhere.
Shriners maneuver tiny cars around.
Arabian horses prance in fancy gear.
Volunteer firemen are the heroes of our town…
At last we hear a siren. The fire truck is here!
I’d like to listen again to a high school band
on a sunny summer day
with a cold, five-cent Coke in my hand.
Reliving nineteen fifty-six, I’d pass the time away!
Copyright© 2021 by Cheryl Batavia
Gulf Coast Poet 