“Dandelion Wine. The words were summer on the tongue.”
The wine was summer caught and stoppered. The balm of sun and idle August afternoons, the faintly heard sounds of ice wagons passing on brick avenues, the rush of silver sky-rockets and the fountaining of lawn mowers moving through ant countries, all these, all these in a glass.”
Like a smile, like a sudden patch of sunlight in the dark. Dandelion wine. Dandelion wine. Dandelion wine.” from Dandelion Wine by Ray Bradbury
Remember how good summer felt when you were a child? Remember how magical the smallest little thing could be? I miss that. I’ll admit it. I miss being a child.
