A poem reflecting how vacation choices change with age.
No more school for a week or so.
Pack the bags and away we go.
On to the beach we all tread,
Dad with a hanky on his head.
Bucket and spade, sandcastles made.
Postcards sent, wish you were here.
Time to go home. See you next year.
He has borrowed a car. Where shall we go?
Somewhere cool, no one will know.
Away from parental gazes,
Peering through tobacco hazes.
Swigging from Old Jim Beam.
This is the teenage dream.
Travel now in foreign places.
Surrounded by dark, smiling faces.
Tasting dishes never tried
Relating tales with boastful pride,
Of daring deeds and times of stress
And how we survived, never the less.
Older still, we are going cruising.
Our sense of adventure. Are we losing?
Luxury cabins with ocean views.
Eating and drinking too much booze.
Holidays throughout the years
Returning home with souvenirs.
A shell collection as a child.
Teenage tales of going wild.
Bringing gifts from foreign places.
Once in backpacks, now wheelie cases.