For Annie

Terry asked me to put some of my poetry on the blog, Who is it for? I asked, he said to write one for his granddaughter Annie, in England. So Annie, this ones for you.

SIXTEEN

It was a girl

She was sixteen

Her dad’s old guitar

And ripped blue jeans

She strummed old strings

We sang along

 

It was a boy

He was just fifteen

A red sailing boat

For his summer’s dream

His gaze she held all night

We watched on

 

It was a boat

As dawn broke golden

And soft white sails

Her name emboldened

Slow waves on morning tide

We did not see

 

It was new love

On summer breezes

Days just drifted by

Seaweed sand and evening breezes

No one he loved more than she

We saw it all