Water-wrinkled Hands And Sand Between My Toes
The sand is not real gold
More like fine Indian silk
And the water is not that cold
Tepid like cool milk
Softly caressing my salty feet
And the ocean’s sheer blue waves
Carry surfers to shore
Then they paddle out for more
So many happy souls
Every face a smile
Mums, dads, children, grandparents too
And old blokes like me
All enjoying the sea
Sand-castles built with glee
Hungry seagulls hovering on the breeze
And prancing for a feed
The commune beach
A lesson to teach
No matter who you are
Some are here from afar
Pale, dark or sunburnt skin
Could be cream or tanned
Bodies short and tall
Rotund and thin
All frolicking as one
Under our southern summer sun
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Photo by Ivor Steven
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Hello Ivor! I love your poem. You’ve created wonderful, evocative and original images to describe a favourite Australian summer pastime.
Hi Jo.. thak you for your thoughtful comments .. the poem was an old one of mine that I rehashed and rewrote to make it more readable, and I am pleased with this new version
Oh, Ivor, this lovely scene makes me want to go to the beach, even though it’s a bit chilly here! <3