And his thoughts became of surf and shingle
Of golden stone buildings and long shadows
Of blue painted restaurants on the corners of steep streets
And an old library crammed with books
In between offices and shops
Echoes along the narrow roads lined with chocolate-box coloured homes
Rock pools before the returning tide and lumps of green lawn among castellated ruins
Her being close
And her smile
He remembered her nearness as they peered over the iron railings
Down into those pools on the dry, grey granite below
He remembered the sea gull that stared back at the happiness in his eyes as they sat on the bench near the pier among the fish-and-chip eating holiday goers
He still had the flat, grey pebbles he had collected on the beach over the hill to the north Where he almost lost the car keys in his enthusiasm to pick the right ones
from the multitude of other flat, grey pebbles
But she coloured his mind and gave him joy
He remembered he felt so good when she was close
The evening of that day of late – very late – summer throbbed in his memory
He wished he could have lived there
Stayed there
To have had the sea as a neighbour
To smell the scent of the waves and the spray
And be in the shadow of the mountain at morning
She had been near to him for a long time that day
Sitting next to him in the car as he drove
Westwards over the narrow, up-and-down roads
And sitting opposite him in the empty café
Mugs of tea between them
But he had been too frightened to touch her
Almost too frightened to speak
He had been scared to open his heart fully in case she took it away
Because he would have given it to her
He wondered how much she already had his heart
Her scent still filled his memory
And the his loneliness idled on empty
© </>
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Like it, a really good poem. A good write. May i invite you to read my new poem called, Dream world.