Friday, 8 January 2016

MoP 8: One. Caramel. Dance.



… I’ve borrowed a friend’s poetry challenge to use all three words (thanks Sally and Rebecca) 

One. Caramel. Dance.

The next day
the sky was less caramel
and more fairy floss
We set out again to picnic
Will carried the basket
Ali the rugs
Marni had one umbrella
and I the other
We tripped down the path that split the dunes
The ground melted beneath us
and when we moved
sand reclaimed our footsteps
like sugar tipping into tea.
My hair flew in the salt breeze
and our passage became more dance than march
as we spilled onto the beach.