Words in the sand

The sun is shining in April,

we’re here for someone’s birthday;

we laugh ‘til we cry and we pour too much drink

and we write silly words in the sand.

 

We’re walking along the promenade,

a gin-inspired swing in my step;

a man in a suit’s playing Frisbee with his kids

and two friends walk their dogs in the mist.

 

It’s seven o’clock and I’m tired -

must be all that food and the sea air -

the mist hides the hills and my feet start to ache

but I can see the moon in the sky.

Reviews

[Peter Joseph Swanson]

Beautiful!