So long since the pebbles that meddled amongst
The rougher stones buried over ancient bones
That made islands of their own.
So long since the sea line brine was washed
Back into the greyish shine.
So long since the air that soothed faces making them
Young again. When the wind that ruled the world
Unfurled, and seemed somehow, heavier.
It shook the loyal green grass like an old fellow
Messing the hair of precocious young Lads.
Here, the sun finds its match in the sea
And where the two meet, is only hearty glee,
And such abundance.
But by the sea I felt strangely empty. As light as a gull.
They chatter nonsense, between mouthfuls of fish
Going far inland where I am now, all hemmed in.
But its better to be an anaemic white beaked bird
Than a beached jellyfish.
I remember now, the spineless stranded scarlet orbs
Dropped by a thousand on a wave, like broken clocks
Destined to sunbathe, one last time.
Was the tide half way in?
As a child I awed at the tug and shrug of a distant moon
When the ocean loomed- to and fro, first fast then slow
And even a Kings golden slippers could drown
As silly keeps of sand and hope went down
As a micro titanic of my young, and stupid age.
When I go back to the shore with its water beat gnaw
I will catch myself in that air again.
Where the past lives.
In a brightly painted hut,
By my sea.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.