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Jun 2016
fingers sliding lazily over a summer's day
hazily remembered now,
notes that slid over my skin

that music got into and took me away.

Watching the river run down to the bay,
the dipping of terns and us
taking turns to dip our feet
was our way to deal with the heat

but the fingers kept sliding
riding the beat
tapping a semaphore on
a blank sheet.
John Edward Smallshaw
Written by
John Edward Smallshaw  68/Here and now
(68/Here and now)   
411
   Elizabeth Squires and ---
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