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
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