
Chatter bubbles and rumbles, like water.
A trickle rising to a gush and then subsiding.
I imagine dabbling my toes in the rivulets of voices,
Feeling the laughs tickle my feet,
The occasional sharp shout splashing up my leg,
Unexpectedly, making me gasp.
I would like to sit and listen,
My seat on the bank,
Hearing the conversations, the jokes, the gossip
At this mini jamboree,
And after a while someone would wave to me,
Beckon me over, pour me a drink,
And call me friend.
There is something about hearing the chatter of parties in gardens … Linking this to Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt to write a poem or prose of exactly 86 words which includes the word ‘jamboree’.