On The Beach
Mymuse has come home…
Heat sits in the bones.
It’s a supple old age,
all ice cream cones
and leaves of crispy sage.
So let’s be doing –
renewing ancient wooing.
Lapping at the saucer
of old cat’s cream.
Living the dream
isn’t a reverie.
It’s every day reality.
Though sunburn stings
on things we should
have covered; yet haven’t
bothered.
For when you’ve
other fish to fry –
then you and I are we.
And we’re beyond
the need for carping
creed and familial critique…
That’s weak and watery
and pales our golden vision.
© franciman 2023
Views: 1054
Subtle internal rhyming – loved it and the triple alliteration in “carping creed and familial critique…”
Hi Mitch,
Thanks for the comment. Still trying to find my feet, again..
Cheers,
Jim