Summer days

I stumble down the wet clumps of clay,

The dirty dark grey clay mold's my feet with every step,

I step on the boiling sand,

I sprint to the shimmering clear blue water,

It's cold and refreshing as it touches my dry skin,

I get dehydrated so I leap out of the water,

And rush to get a Fanta and lollies,

I hate Stratfords hot days