Play Acting

More memories of childhood and teenaged holidays in Woolacombe. This has been altered a lot since i first posted it, and now forms a type of modern sonnet. 

Play acting

Weeks of playing on golden sands,
Building castles with our young hands,

Swimming, shrieking in roaring waves,
Exploring dark and dingy caves,

Slurping ice-cream in biscuit cones,
Hair tangled, knotted, sea-wind-blown,

Skin sore and red, then turning tanned,
From long hot days spent on the strand,

We waved goodbye to beach life, and our toys,
As we dared each other to flirt with boys,

Posing and pouting, jukebox cool,
They never noticed us playing the fool
.
As teen-age found us on those grassy dunes,
We left behind childish, summer afternoons.

© Copyright 2025. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved

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