Childhood Pearls

I was reading poems and was transported – why?
to childhood holidays in Menton
a sweet and forgotten place
of precious memories…

The messy overgrown steep walk
to our wild rubble cottage on the hillside
I breathe the mint, strong smelling,
crickets, bugs, buzzing around us, flicking.

In the outside shower lives spiders, insects, webs
I rush it to leave quickly, nervous.

Sun hot, long days on the beach,
jumping big waves
and lying on the lilo serene,
playing bat and ball, counting.

On the balcony in the evening
the adults drink small beers
as the darkening mystery cradles us.

These are precious memories, pearls, delicate
oh to create some now, for my boy.