High on St Clair hill the salty air blows
against my face while kids are in the muddy puddles
cant wait till the winter goes
Down the hill at St Clair beach the waves are wild
the sand is white and not a surfer is in sight
cant wait for the wind to be mild
In the morning the sun is out listening to kids laugh and shout
and dogs are barking at seals while the surfers are watching the pups come about
At night people are having fish n chips licking their chops
while sea gulls are swooping down trying to steal their dinner
I really enjoyed reading your poem, Jack! You have managed to create some lovely descriptions that create a real image in my mind about a day at St Clair... I look forward to reading some more!
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