The Secret of the Caves

Summer, thirteen, by the sea.
Just exploring, you and me,
Poking in and out of rocks,
Feet washed by the waves —

None had known, and who were we?
Strangers to the scenery.
My flattop, your sandy locks —
The secret of the caves.

Flashlights fetched, and sandals on,
Finally, astounded,
Whispering the glow
“Can’t believe we found it!”

Summer, thirteen, on the shore.
How could anyone want more?
Decades later, aftershocks —
The secret of

The caves

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

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