Summer Changes

Cross CoombeSummer, it seems, suits me.
It never has before.
A dour northerner with skin that reddened and peeled
I shunned the sun and despised the heat.

Yet here I smile at the golden ball,
I wear long red shorts,
Sit in the full sun, for a while,
And never worry about my grey, sea-tangled hair.

Skin is older now.
It has take fifty years to get used to changing
But now, here, it works,
I suddenly notice I am brown.

Change doesn’t stop
I wonder what I’ll be when I am grown.
All grown up into the earth again,
Still changing.

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