The first time I saw her,
She was blue;
Cord wrapped round her neck.
She was mine.
She was ours.
We loved her.
Now in her teens,
She breaks our hearts.
But we love her just the same.
Tag: Poetry
School holidays end
School holidays end
Bringing misty, damp mornings
Ready for autumn
Reeds
A whispered refrain
Mournful on summer mornings
Wind through the reed beds
You Make My Summer
It isn’t the sun
Or even the sea and sand
You make my summer
Gloomy Summer’s Day
Gloomy summer’s day
Bobbing at the water’s edge
A lonely boardwalk
