Low sun long shadows
Hunched shoulders
And the day is leaving
Creaking on its journey
Swaying from side to side
Cream cakes and cold tea
On the polished wooden tables
The ladies with doilies in their hair
Wiping and tidying
One of my yesterdays
Across the sand dunes
And over the river
After the small station
For the small seaside village
Where the sand is soft
Where I never went
Where the footpath ended
And the hill was steeper
On the wrong side of the bay
But where I saw her eyes smile
And her lips too
Her happiest face
Looking along the breakwater
Stumbling on the pebbles
Now around the corner
And so far
I leave myself close
As if I'll ever be needed
But there's always a chance
©
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem