Clinging to the mock-mosaic edge
A first width now behind him,
his glinting squints framed with wet pyramid eyelashes,
'I did it, are you proud?'
And here it starts.
Brothers who once swam for certificates, for badges
now plunge, bomb, 'tombstone'
from rocks, from cliffs, The Harbour Arm
who jointly laugh at my admonishments, drink beer in the sun and fall asleep on inflatables.
With one swift kick his factor 50'd legs make their way back across to woops and cheers.
'I'm just like the boys, Mum, aren't I?'
Twenty odd years fall away,
'Yes' (God help me) 'you are!'