Sun Burned

Sun and surf, holidays and laughter 

unless the sunscreen is slapped on after 

the sun bites in and blisters appear

our hat blow off and lobsters adhere

our tents lay flat and our drinks slide away

sand-witches zap our bread into hay

buckets grow holes and spades lose their handles 

and wouldn’t you know it, we break our sandals

our towels turn all crunchy, the barbie explodes

the tide washes out and the shore erodes

the sand grows so hot that we scurry like mice 

wishing we’d taken the experts’ advice

‘Global warming,’ they had warned us ahead 

so we tread more carefully and change the thread 

care for our planet; reap new choices we’ve made

wearing sunscreen and hats; we play in the shade

holidays arrive . . . we all survive

‘Cheers!’ A toast with cool lemonade

Julie Cahill