This one was written for JD Mader's 2minutesgo writing exercise on his website, Unemployed Imagination. Head over there every weekend to write, read or comment, or all of them! This one is about a beach and growing up. Cheers :)
Buckets and spades
The things we would
wish upon
we collect in small plastic buckets,
levelled with a red-flamed spade.
We save these things for prosperity.
this serenity we seek to keep,
hold it to our chest, do not weep.
This is the place to stand and cheer,
not knowing how long you’ll breathe
before the collection of eyes.
You can seek
derision or wholeness,
despair or try to plummet on.
It’s a carousel, an endless turning
and you shall have your horse.
We chase the rain across beaches,
spread-out sand dunes so pristine,
and run like dogs into the waiting
waves, our spades still in our hands.
We don’t ask for all that much,
and some of us don’t ask at all.
Copyright
Vickie Johnstone, June 19, 2021
we collect in small plastic buckets,
levelled with a red-flamed spade.
We save these things for prosperity.
this serenity we seek to keep,
hold it to our chest, do not weep.
This is the place to stand and cheer,
not knowing how long you’ll breathe
before the collection of eyes.
despair or try to plummet on.
It’s a carousel, an endless turning
and you shall have your horse.
We chase the rain across beaches,
spread-out sand dunes so pristine,
and run like dogs into the waiting
waves, our spades still in our hands.
We don’t ask for all that much,
and some of us don’t ask at all.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Thanks for commenting :)