People think I’m a lunatic and should be locked inside.
But friends keep visiting, and I take them out for rides!
Went on Wednesday with Lana to Wells On Sea.
Sat on the beautiful beach, and ate the picnic made by me.
She wandered to the water to walk through the waves
while I pondered on a poem about the beauty of the day.
Soft wind lifting individual grains of sand,
children castle building, lovers walking hand in hand.
Dad hogging the plastic bucket, Mother refusing to play,
Lifeguard at the lookout at the curve of the bay,
sounding the siren to warn of the treacherous tide
catching a couple out on the other side.
Who wisely whip off footwear and quickly wade across
to the belt of a beach with the beach huts, and the fabulous flower froth.
The poppy, the ragwort, and cuckoo,
on the quay were people in ill-fitting clothes stroll, as people do.
Licking ice cream, and talking of this and that,
with sun heated faces, and kiss me quick hats.
Seeing clouds banking thinking ‘The dry will never last.’
While terns protect their offspring in the marrum grass.
Atop undulating dunes straddling the shore.
While Lana lingers by the water for an hour
wanting even more of the salt, and the sea spray,
determined to extend the glorious day
when we went to Wells On Sea,
sat on the beautiful beach,
and ate the picnic made by me.