We swam in the sea, diving deeper and deeper. Brown as berries with skin like copper glass. The cool water refreshed, healed, cleansed.
It was our world and we loved it. We licked the salt, encrusted like sea snow, teeny tiny barnacles on our arms, ears, mouth, eyes. It tasted so good. Fearless sea creatures, we swam amongst jellies, taunting ocean drifters with endless creamy tentacles.
A myriad of tiny crabs swim over the waves. One is braver than the rest and swims right up to me. He takes a little nip, tastes my salty sweat.
“Begone” I cry, “You are hurting me”.
“I care not” says the crab “I have better fish to fry, and you are no fish”.
And off he goes, in search of a bitta betta suppa.
I am a Summer’s Child, alas a Saturday’s Child as well. Fraught with conflict, destined for battle – I am what I am, naught to do about that.