A ‘grommet’ is a young surfer

I can see your tousled hair on a swirling sea,
As you scan the horizon for the next large set,
Your bronze sinews and board at the ready,
Hoping for no ‘drop-ins’ that make you fret. 

A broiling wave rises from the soapy mire,
And you’re off across it with perfect stance,
Like a trapeze artist on a bouncing wire,
You concentrate as if caught in a trance.

Though ‘Gnarly’, ‘Sick Man’, your skill records,
I prefer to ‘bus-drive’, all I think it takes,
On one of those Woolies special boogie boards,
Doing my tricks on the huge beach breaks. 

Now here comes a one-footer that could dump; 
Oh no, straight into the sand I go with a thump!

© Neil Dufty