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