Monday, March 18, 2019

Mission Beach and a Blue Bikini - poem

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

Mission Beach and a Blue Bikini

Your grandmother and I are the only ones
Who listen still to Rod McKuen, and dream
Of Mission Beach ‘way back in ‘68
Or maybe not so far back after all

The sands still sing of sea and salt and seals
There are no watchful clocks to time our hopes
No calendars to tell us we are old
As we slow dance to a tiny transistor

But not with each other, not any more
For I had my orders, and she had hers

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