Should I get lost, point me in the direction of a poem.

Different Strokes

July 3rd, 2015 | Posted by bbleen in Uncategorized

During my pre-teen years I spent

most of my summer days

at the pool.

My companions were Lynette

and Elaine, cousins and my

best friends.

I was the tomboy of the group,

spending all of my time

diving from the low boards,

spinning off the high,

staying in the water until the

whistle blew signifying a

mandatory ten minute time out.

At this time teenagers and adults

were the only ones allowed in the

pool. Lynette and Elaine would

get up and wiggle over to the

edge, dipping their toes into

the water, squealing accordingly

if they happened to get splashed.

Once the whistle blew I was back

in the water in a flash. They would

return to their beach towels, roll

their hair up in huge brush curlers

then lie in the sun and bake; turning

up the transistor radio, turning on

the boys.



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