Postcard Home
By Silver Spun Sand
- 5682 reads
How fast a fortnight flies...
how very blue the sea was.
How I tried to chase
the ripples back to shore...
how it came undone,
that knitted swimsuit I wore,
whilst burying Dad’s toes
as he dozed – stereotypical
hankie on head; corners tied.
My mum, nattering to yours,
and how high the sea-gulls flew
as we watched with shaded eyes.
How I took a deep breath, said,
“Hello! My name's Christina...
so what’s yours then?” Surprised
you dropped your choc-ice...
face-down, and my brother
teased yours, and how our dog
chased the waves;
did as he pleased, shook,
then sneezed, and how trumpets
played so loud we held our ears,
while the band played on.
How we queued for an age
on the sand for our pictures
on a donkey and your dad
said a bob was tantamount
to daylight robbery...
And how, by the pier, ‘neath
beach-balls and sandaled feet
we two dug a tunnel; you
at one end, me at the other...
and how, at long-last, we broke
through and both our hands met,
and my heart skipped a beat and
how I wish you were here.
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Comments
Gentle nostalgia, if that
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I agree, I could have been
k.
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ScoZen Fully agree with
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O Tina those far away days,
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O Tina those far away days,
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Hi Tina, what a really
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new
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What a wonderful gift you
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I like the visual imagery
barryj1
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I love the repetition of
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