Even on dreary Lake Erie
among tufts of grass and broken glass
hot sand sparkled like it knew no better
and we knew that summer would glory on forever
We hid from our parents between the dunes
giggling into each other with the radio switched on
Sylvia’s Mother was the aching song it played
written by the same man who wrote the book
about a tree that gave and gave and gave
and was happy anyways
we read it together
half a century ago
You my younger sister and I we swam in fishy water
and rubbed each other with lotion (SPF zero)
till we reeked of seaweed and coconuts
still impossibly white inside
no matter how much we tried and tanned
before Labour Day forced us back
into plaid pleated skirts
and patent leather shoes
Till then we sprawled on Disney princess blankets
and I showed you how to thrust your hands
like paddling in thickened waves
reaching deep into cool wet sand
that lingered under our fingernails
and in the creases of our groins
after the August warmth
of golden sand had gone
Penny Sarmada is a writer from Ontario who is starting to send poetry and other writing into the world. A recent piece appears in Versification. Twitter @PennySarmada
Painting by the author