It Could Be…
It doesn’t have to be the gloomy grey sky and the bitter frosty air.
It was like the world was icicles. It doesn’t have to
be me hitting the golf ball as fast as a peregrine
falcon gliding down wind.
It could be the succulent sweets dancing around the Cookie Jar like
everyone at the fireworks at Brassie Beach. It could be the adorable pigs,
sheep’s, cows and chickens as small as a pillow.
Be curious about the soft soggy sand and the wonderous
drenched water at Troon Beach like seagulls soft feathers in a see-through
Puddles.
Pay attention to every single crooked leave and gnarled twig on the ground.
The cold winters breeze is as
fast as the Titanic when the water was so calm
and the sky was so clear.
Your poem is the best ever and funny