Select Page
Hillard’s basic orchard juice,
clutched tightly in our hands.
Proudly paid for with our YTS wages,
Club Tropicana playing in stages
as we pause our Walkman
and talk for ages,
of the summer ahead and the fun we have planned.
Long summer days of cider with Sal.
Under-age
under-dressed,
under the impression
the boys will come swarming.
To see us in our finery,
of Etam string vests and Miss Siam shorts.
To engage in idle chit chat,
before a fumble in the grass,
a cheeky grope of his ass,
then leaving for home
all out of sorts.
I’ve changed Sal’s name,
hidden her real identity.
I fear she may recall things differently to me!
Rather, those long summer days of cider with Sal
were perhaps not the same as I’ll
have you believe.
There was too much cider,
and all the wrong boys.
Hangovers at work,
bosses poised
to take away our futures of “bland security”.
But for all the fun we had,
there are no regrets.
Cider with Sal
was simply the best.
I wonder where she is,
and what she might be doing
with her long summer days
now she’s middle-aged.
Like me, no more cider,
I’d hazard a guess.
Though our friendship is past,
and the halcyon days gone,
our memories will last
the seasons of life.
Secure in the knowing
it was all second to none.
𝘿𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙢𝙮 𝙛𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙨, 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙩, 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙛𝙪𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚. 𝙒𝙚 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙡𝙬𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙙, 𝙬𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙛𝙖𝙧 𝙩𝙤𝙤 𝙢𝙪𝙘𝙝 𝙤𝙣 𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙝 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 😂😘

Pin It on Pinterest