Went to the beach and had lots of fun. Got burned to a crisp in the glaring sun. My skin is on fire. My lips are chapped. Forgot my sunscreen. Forgot my cap. Got sand in my undies, Sand in my socks, Got sand in my hoo-hees. And stepped on a rock. Spent hours on castles The tide washed away. Got sad-snoozy tired From swimming all day. Then you ripped me away, Made me get in the car-o. I threw a big fit. Left the beach in sorrow. I don't understand why we can't go again Tomorrow. -B.C. Byron
This poem reminds me so much of when I was a kid. It reminds me of those glorious days when I was so focused on the fun I was having that I could ignore pain, hunger, and all worries. My daughters will stay on the beach digging a hole, piling sand, finding shells, or just pouring water on things for hours and hours. The only thing that breaks their concentration and good mood is the phrase “time to go”. I have to drag their overtired little bodies to the car screaming and force a seat belt on.
When I was small, it was playing outside in the snow. I would build a huge snow fort for most of the day. I hardly noticed my windburned cheeks and the fact that my feet had turned into frozen bricks inside my boots. But oh, how it burned when I came into the warm house for dinner. My skin was turned to fire. I’m lucky I never lost any toes or fingers to frostbite. The pain was only noticeable when the fun had stopped. Then right after dinner, and after my moaning and complaining about burning digits, I went right back outside for more snow time.