On Blueberry Hill
      Fats Domino, c. 1956
by Priscilla Turner Spada

We were young teens back in the day,
hormones raging, kept at bay,
by dire warnings, fear, instilled
from parents, teachers nixing thrills.

Don't be alone, or dance too near;
don't be too flirty, watch what you wear.
We toed the line, but when we could,
we'd gather in the neighborhood.

Radios blasting the latest tunes,
we'd rock and roll when Fats would croon,
   “the wind in the willows played
      love's sweet melodies,
      but all of the vows we made
      were never to be.”

I recall that one-time crush
and how those feelings made me blush.
      “Though we're apart, you're part of me still
      for you were my thrill on Blueberry Hill.”



 

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