Source:
Adults
Author:
Rhona Aitken
Title:
Summer Frolic
There are bones within my body grumbling at their crumbling state. The sands of Southport plead for sunning, running at a rate too fast for me. I’m the one who sits on side-lines holding hand-bags, lunch and such as brown legs scamper splashing, crashing through surf that’s much too fast for me. But memory’s a golden thing, a feast of long-stored frolic. To sit contented, nothing repented – that’s the tonic! Not too fast for me.
Published on writebuzz®:
Adults
> Poetry
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