Young Summer
I can feel the smell of sunny grass,breathe colours of the sea,
I'm in bathers made by mum
and can stay here for some tea.
We've parked our stuff at the same rock,
ran off with buckets and spades,
left rolled up wraps in duffles,
on rocks and sand we played.
Caught cabots in a rock pool,
made dams with stones and vraic,
ran round, skipped and jumped,
felt the sun upon our backs.
Exhilarating swimming,
racing across the bay,
"don't go out of your depth!"
mums warning, must obey.
Out and shivering slightly,
looking forward to crisps and pop,
mums have tea in baskets
steaming pot fills cups to top.
Dry, fed and watered
collecting bottles for returns,
threepence on the empties,
buying sweets that we have earned.
Homeward bound we dawdle
licking sea salt on our hands,
bodies brown as berries
toes still covered with sand.
Time for sleepy dreaming
of tomorrows sunny day,
rollers, surf, seashells,
and mum and friends and play.
Poetry by shells
Read 909 times
Written on 2013-10-08 at 23:14
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
ngaio Beck |
Peter Humphreys |
Elle |
|
Lawrence Beck |
Texts |
by shellsLatest textsReflectionFall and Rise Silent Self Unsettled Taking Control |
Increase font
Decrease