In your Dad’s Wolsley Saloon,
Leather blue seats warm in Summer Sun,
Sticking to our near naked skin,
Scorching our young bodies.

We gasp as the rays of a day bleach the body of his car,
In tin and leather,
We gasp as our young eyes awaken,
Our first Summer of love.

In just some flimsy Bikini,
You slither in the sand,
Legs like a Mermaids tail,
You writhe before my primitve eyes.

Sand plays across your browning skin,
As I inhale your unique smell,
Umber wood tinged with vanilla,
Your blond hair alight under sun.

You tease this shy boy till he runs away,
No courage to make any kind of pass,
You slip into the grass of a dune,
I stroll behind lost in want.

Mothers pride loaf carved by hands lost in days of spam teas and stewed fruit puddings,
Hands so tired they now rest idly.

Patterns for grand pullovers poured over as children grow and set off for school,
Discarded under word search puzzles.

Heels tapped on bus steps as she climbed aboard the Bath bus and children’s hands held tight,
Grown now they drive to her side.

At her window she waves watching family leave for cars and journeys home,
One last goodbye and sleep comes.

Greyhounds bolt,
Elastic dogs,
Trapped till the rabbit runs.

A gun fires and punters wave papers,
Smudged smutted hankies,
To wish poor puppies on.

Rabid run,
Rabbit run,
Dogs ‘fun’ done,
Punters wins to spend on ***.

Dogs retire to a night behind wire,
Howling,
Cold,
Whining.

Punters swagger to a night of vice,
Yelling
Warm,
Wining.