Bruised Little Bums

Bruised Little Bums

Dads' 65 Land Rover with ragged blue top,

Motor wipers that would go and then stop.

Holes in the floor for the wrappers of sweets,

Little bruised bums from hard metal seats.

Now sis and I were like chalk n cheese,

My jagged fringe and bloodstained knees.

Dirt covered face and rolled up jeans,

Was I a good girl, not by any means.

Her with white ribbons, clothes so clean,

Pretty toenails that mum painted green.

She often played dolls, not really with me,

I liked boy's games and climbing trees.

Our journey to the beach was full of fun,

Me shooting drivers behind with my gun.

Holding candy sticks as if they were smokes,

Both giving it eyes with pinches and pokes.

Nets at the ready with buckets and spades,

My sweet stained vest and Kermit frog shades.

Racing for those steps to Sandbanks beach,

Children on donkeys with ice creams each.

Mad faced seagulls with fish crazed eyes,

Flapping coloured dragons flying the skies.

Funny giggles when sea wets your pants,

Those slimy wiggles from seaweed plants.

Dad with his Polaroid to take some snaps,

Mum was cheering with waves and claps.

With soaking clothes and wet tangled hair,

We both cuddled up in a towel to share.

A red check blanket and our favourite treat,

A teddy bears picnic with Sooty and Sweep.

Mums wicker hamper with sarnies and cake,

With a bottle of juice and some salt n shake.

We skipped up the beach all holding hands,

Twirling us around and kicking the sand.

To the kiosk shops and ice cream man,

Jumping the rock pools and razor clams.

Dad bought ice cream and a colourful kite,

To fly with those dragons all shiny and bright.

Our day at the beach was so full of fun,

Games with dad and cuddles with mum.