Rip force plunges summer's end
In thrusts of sea and lists.
Already tumble leaves on paths
And morning breaths are crisp.
Wistful, wakeful waves of me
Must crash back on the Shore.
(Or more accurately: down to the school gates beside the Shore, bracing myself for the currents of two schoolboys' adventures instead of just one!)
1 comment:
Very poetic!!
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