The Last Photo

Poem a day #29 is a response to prompts from Write Better Poetry and NaPoWriMo: 1) Write a “last blank” poem and 2) write a poem that muses on both the gifts and curses you have received in your life.

Naked on the beach, we are three
tow-heads circling.
We group, we balance on a rock
strewn shore so still.

Touching squat toes, we test
the same waters
fill pink buckets with sand dollar 
shards gone still.

Taut bare backs against sun
we gaze up ambitious
for a turn to sip a red thermos
she lifts as if a still

to her lips with our small
mouths gaping. Dark
hair falling down her coffee
tanned face, skin still

smooth, still calm, she is the hinge
around which we pivot.
We are enthralled.  With young
legs sprawled on the still

green lawns of summer, she will
assemble all our collections
of sea shells and glass, make miniature
moss gardens go still.

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