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Rated: E · Poetry · Contest Entry · #2045181
A poem written about a disastrous summer holiday my friends and I experienced.
Ibiza

It is rare that Ibiza
Comes to my mind,
I believe some things
Are best left behind;
The passport lost,
Found ten years later,
Which almost prevented
Us going together.
Our hotel's location:
The centre of ‘Party’,
The thing we detested,
All others so rowdy!

We found ourselves drawn
To a paradise beach
Secretly stashed
Out of ravers’ reach,
Our first day sunbathing
Was heavenly, chilled
The sparkling, clear water ...
With joy, we were thrilled
Then Nina went swimming,
Her lilo in tow,
But she swam too far out
To her rescue, I did go.

Back at the hotel
We all noticed the red,
A bright crimson burning
From our toes to our heads
The agony kicked in,
Spanish heat was immense
Yet no air conditioning,
How did that make sense?
The next day the three of us
Groaned with such pain,
Suncream, we vowed,
Never forgotten again.

The next days grew worse,
All so drenched in heat,
Arguments were everywhere,
Even out in the streets
It wasn’t too long
’Til we started to implode
And Shell threw Nina’s favourite shoes
Into the road
When the last day came
We were so glad to leave,
Back to England
Where it was eighteen degrees.

48 Lines
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