Brownsea: part 1

One crystalline, yacht-strewn morning

The sea a glazed, tutti-frutti rink

My eyes dazzle-fathomed the vista

Too stupefied awe-struck to think

I tip-toed alone to the wildwood

Filled pockets with crumbs that I stole

Enmeshed in the dreams of my childhood

Elated and sun-kissed and whole

My heart pulsing hoped-for encounters

Of wonders, delights and rare thrills

Enthralled by the promised perfection

That lay on the path to those hills

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