A poem for Friday

The Beach Hut

Quietly Creaking

With a doorstep full of sand

The hut – licked by salt air

Ship shape stripes

Flake away

In a row of candy colours

Tasting of the sea

Shutting out gulls cries

And winds whispers and shouts

In a cupboard full of damp towels

And blankets

Sticky ice cream fingerprints

Coffee cup rings

Driftwood and seashells