Poetry

              Blue Stone Memories

On Shelley Beach I found a large blue stone,

Sea smoothed and indigo like the rinses

Much favoured by old ladies in my youth,

Who tightly corseted and tannin preserved,

Would turn to Mum and say,

“You better put a brick on that boy’s head To stop him shooting through the roof.”

And, pleased with this remark, not unkindly meant,

They’d plant a powdery kiss on my forehead,

Leaving a bright red smear.

Gry Ireland © 2015

If you would like to make a comment on this poem, please email the author at:

gary@camdenwritersinc.com.au

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