Foxton Beach Poem
The beach was usual enough; it had
Desert like dunes, shells, driftwood, a sky
Over it, and even a massive hill of sand to slide down
I like. My brother, my sister and I
Did what siblings do – dozed in the hot
Sand, pretended to have world war 3, jumped over
The big waves, climbed on top of the
Massive drift wood piles,
Played cricket in the hard sand, wrestled or swam
Doing nothing important.
