On long summer days
We sat on the curb waiting
For the sound of bells
We longed for the taste
Colored ice for tongues’ licking
Refreshment from heat
He was our hero
Bright memory of childhood
The popsicle man
poetrybyheart.me
Sometimes everything has to be enscribed across the heavens so you can find the one line already written inside you. Sometimes it takes a great sky to find that small, bright, and indescribable wedge of freedom in your own heart. David Whyte
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poetrybyheart.me 
Something about the bells of the popsicle man or the tinkling tune of the ice cream truck that evokes the fondest childhood memories.
Sweet!
Glad you like it, Dale. 🙂
Popsicles and snow cones. Summer!
There is a truck playing very loud music that comes around here. This summer I won’t complain of the noise.