Monday, 25 April 2016


White sand under young feet
Eyes filled with blue
Sky and sea and sun
The breeze brushing a soft face
Like a comforting whisper
No thought of the horizon
And what lies beyond
No thought of the high tide

There were many places
In the landscape to shelter
Many places to be alone
But connected to lived life
There was an outside
And an inside
And a path on which to walk
Where no way was barred

There is much to be recalled
And forgotten in the mist
Of time passing
Sand slips through fingers
Finger’s stiffen
Become slack
But always
Always love returns