The Sun Does Burn

Comfort can sometimes yield pain, on a hot tin roof.

The stock tank was cold

This early summer day

Two young men

Had dared to play

In the water

Still chilled from the ground

Two young bodies

White from a long winter

Had goose bumps all over

As they scrambled up the wood pile

To stretch out on top

Of the corrugated tool-shed roof

Ahhh, the warmth,

The sweet soft breeze

Mom just doesn’t know

How great life can be

We rested

But Oh, for a week

We ached and cried

As our skin turned red and hot and dried

Why didn’t we listen?

 

 

Reviews

[The Autumn Faerie]

Tisk, tisk!
You should have worn your sunscreen!