The Red Parasol

These short minutes of my girlhood have lingered for years from the day I took the shortcut through thickets and crickets imagining you standing on shore before the turning white waves twirling your red parasol smiling, almost flying in wind as you saw me emerge. Reality slapped me down hard crashing the shore as you sat a snail’s breath away clearly engaged in girl talk expressive and hushed with a young lady dressed in blue leaning on a large rock; I could not see her face, but you saw me and looked away. I’ve become the fretting sun, your red parasol, the shade. The Red Parasol by Alfred Glendening - Poetry Contest July 3, 2016