We were eight years old.

The beach was bleak and the sand reflected the sky in grey hue.

Emily and I wanted to play

but were told by mum what not to do.

 

We threw our shoes in the mud.

Sniveling children never listen to their mum

and we found a raft and tied it to a wharf.

We says she can kiss our left bum!

 

The raft was wooden, square and full of splints

“pain is for grown-ups”, Emily said

We went far from the vision of the shore.

Soon I was filling up with doubt in my button head.

 

I told Emily, “I want to go back in!”

She says “only a scaredly cat would abandon ship”

Ignoring her refusal

I pulled back on the rope straight to shore

Suddenly the rope snapped and the situation became crucial.

 

We had lost all hope but

we were snapped up quick

the coastguard came and dropped us home

Mum patterned us with lip-stick.

 

Mum is always right

Us hooligans should have listened to her words

We could have perished that day

And been one with the birds.