The Summer of ‘93

It was summer of ‘93.

The sea, the sky, they were there for me.

Each blink I took, all shades of blue.

It was the perfect world for a 9 year-old.

Familiar voices echo at the back,

they were my constant, every day and night.

As the sea sparkle at the touch of light,

this chapter’s scene will be my last sight.

As I breathe out all the years in between,

the child softly vanished into an old soul.

Now, drowned beneath what ifs and should’ve beens.

Oh what I’d give to have that moment again