The Stroke – A Series

A surge of warmth

One that I had not felt for a time

Started at the tips of my fingers

When you first held my hand.

A moment longer and I

Starry-eyed and blushed

Would have given you my name

And in time

My heart.

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A Day At The Beach

I remember the smell of salty seas,
A heady mixture of east and west
Travelling up and down my crinkled nose.
Back then, I was still the same as I am now.
I felt. I saw.
The heat didn’t come down as hard as it usually did
For I remember that gentle breeze
Brushing the sun off my skin.
I held tightly onto my father’s young hand as he walked,
As I dawdled,
Towards the crashing of white and blue.