Written on the Beach

Sands

Frisbees kites and seagull wails,
Sand between your toes,
Children loading plastic buckets,
Jumping over waves…

But soon the gold of sands will pale
Grained fortifications wash away…

A white yacht on the horizon
Slipping between the islands –
Sun glinting on a fishing tripod
Children’s voices in the air…

But soon the grains of sand will count
Their way to sunset, time for home…

And back among the roofscape
Looking at the chimneypots of
Urban sky, you can’t remember
Any more
How like a sigh the seagulls sound –
You dream about the smoothness
Of a summer sea;
The breaking of a tiny wave
Whispers in your ear…

The time slips through to evening
- red plastic buckets left behind,
a small pink spade half buried in the sand –
It’s time for ice-creams now, and home
To dream of other days so perfect,
Azure, white and gold…
A turquoise football
Carried far and fast,
Is merging with the waves…
A few grains slip away
From the sandbank by the wall
And I know that soon
The light will fade…

The engine sounds
Of fishing boats
Returning, are
Vibrating heartbeats…

And you’ll forget their
Rhythms far away
In traffic jams of
Deadlined city life…

- the first word of a
new memory is
whispered in your ear –

a couple laughing
hand in hand -
don’t think about
those currents
further out …

Fish are gutted,
Stories told.
It’s almost cobalt midnight…
Closing time at the
Harbour bars
With joyful singing
Talking
Laughing –

Far away amid the rooftops
You’ve forgotten how this is,
Streetlight auras drown the cobalt,
Taxi lights go out –

And if we’re here tomorrow,
We’ll do it all again –
Build the castles, jump the waves
Watch the gannets dive
Breathe the air of
Salt and sand,
Throw the frisbee high –

But our tides
Are coming in
Our waters deepening –

The breeze grows cool
The car-park empties
Seagulls are at peace
I’m fathoming a mystery
This nearly midsummer night –
Beyond the chimneyscape and deadlines,
Time is flowing clear.

6th June 2007