a playtime in the rain (1958)
A memoire
I remember an oak tree
on the edge of the ravine
with a looped hemp rope dangling
from an overhanging branch
we used to swing on over
the rushing boulder river,
whooping ‘Geronimo’ while
scared to death. hiding our fear
as being called a chicken
was a fate worse than dying.
playing one rainy morning
some big kid jumped the queue
taking control of the rope
he beat his chest Tarzan-style
impressing his girlfriend who
thought he looked magnificent
and blew him a kiss – but then
inch by inch he lost his grip,
calling for his mother he
tumbled into the torrent –
we never saw him again.
© coolhermit 2021
Views: 632
Gosh that is so sad, especially his calling for his mother. So much packed into so few lines. Sue.
Chilling stuff. The recklessness of youth always catches some out. I guess many of us are lucky to be here.
Thanks both – pride comes before destruction 🙁