The Isle Of Whithorn. Poem by Carol Bailey

Single street beach walk
By a raised cat paw sea
Throws windows to walls
And thoughts become lace
Behind each hair woven face

Small island house window
Window sill vase, flower and me
The dormant still life
We are watching the sea
And in the ebb and the flow
We have to agree

That the things let go
And the things yet to be
All come together
In the stretch and the ripple
Of a single street beach walk
By a cat paw sea