Wednesday, May 24, 2017

Duncan Bay Poem

Duncan Bay was usual enough; it had a river, a beach, a reserve, an ocean, a sky
over it, it even had a old stone wharf
that I always went to. My cousins and I did what most boys do. Sun bathed on the hard deck, crept past the noisy neighbour, making huts sprinted through the bush with sticks on our shoulders, ran around the bay, swam or kayaked  
Doing nothing important

John Brown

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