When I was down beside the sea, A wooden spade they gave to me… But I didn’t pay much attention, because on my right, the full moon was rising, doing its silver-dollar thing across the ripples of the bay, and on my left, the sun was setting, slopping rose gold down the mountain and letting it run across the sea.
Should I bay to the moon or pray to the sun?
Or should I disappear into the black ink between?
About me
I'm a freelance writer - fiction, nonfiction and anything else that happens to tango its way through my mind. That's for me, and I've won a competition or two, and been published in a range of media. To keep the wolf from the door, I also edit, proofread and write for other people. Love it all. Aren't I lucky?
Six Weeks in Summer – Helen Meikle. Available on Smashwords and Kindle
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