surf crashes –
heat of day has passed
and lying in the sand you wriggle in,
it molds your body’s shape.
you’ve had a little too much sun and so
you have that lovely lazy afternoon fatigue.
the fine mist spray that blows in from the lake,
the sweet cool breeze that whispers through the trees
both cool you, so you
pull the beach towel over you and doze.
the lovely nearly naked bodies wander by,
they try in vain to look indifferent to admiring stares –
you arch your neck to watch
concealed behind your shades so passers-by
could think that you were sleeping.
a favourite song comes wafting in
from someone’s CD player far away, its tune enmeshed
with plaintive sounds of sea birds.

and then the show of sunset.

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3 Responses to CRUEL SUMMER

  1. Sensual and very, very truthful. That’s what a good poem should be.

  2. Dave Pollard says:

    Thanks. Coming from the master of Haiku, that’s a real compliment. Still not as disciplined as your poetry, though.

  3. kara says:

    I will save that one to read in the middle of winter (smile)

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