Tuesday, July 17, 2012

South Shields

Pale blue sky, egg-speckled with clouds that wind and twist their entrails round the
new-born day;
A day sun-washed in its infancy, circled, woven into fabric by the wind-kissed loom
of the morning;
The footfall of the waves beating a syncopated rhythm:
Dog-walkers walk their dogs on the later forbidden foreshore:
Joggers jog, and cyclists ride their soft-shod wheels at speed:
The walker walks alone, takes time to breathe and understand.
The gull that circles, vulture like, overhead lets loose a mournful cry.
The deep, dark abyss lies across the rutted road,
And beckons, calls, pulls, pleads, its very blackness
Offering velvet oblivion.
The hand held out in supplication touches fingers
And slips away, forlorn, one more hope dashed.
The laughter, then so gay, now hollow and insincere;
The hope, the joy, the anticipation, all crushed.
And so to sleep, sleep the balm that heals even the deepest wounds,
Cannot come, if it comes, too soon.
The sand shifts and drifts, a million million sparkles of light
To explode and caress the souls of your feet.
The sand falls into ridges and fights the sea,
Once moved and formed, next trapping the ocean
Within its relentless embrace.
A battle fought, won and lost, each day,
Again and again and again.
I walk again where I walked before
And see you there, beside me,
Remote, secure,
And however hard I stretch out,
Out of my reach.
You have become a part of the pier,
Of the sea, the rocks, the sand,
You are in the shore, and dancing upon the waves
(c) 2ndwitch 16/07/12


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