I must have started this poem sometime ago. It must have been after visiting Bamburgh beach again – I don’t remember. Anyway, I found it recently and have made a few changes, mainly cutting stuff away. I put it here because it reminds me of the time when my children were young and we all played on the beach as if we didn’t have a care in the world. Maybe we didn’t. Maybe it’s just that we felt safe.
Bamburgh on the Beach Six years before the sea was just as cold. I came here with five kids trailing in my wake like gulls with buckets wind-breaks and some idea of how the day would end. ‘Get your socks off, come on dad,’ my freed feet danced on the wet sand like a beached fish. I felt a soft hand lead mine. We journeyed stood face to face with emptiness as icy waves tried to reach our knees. ‘I love this place let's build a castle.’ We all raced, laughed, rearranged spadefuls of damp sand until someone heard the picnic call. Kids only need small portions of time. I closed my eyes felt the sound of the sea-shell lift my skin in waves as deep as the cold that smooths the sand. As our day tired we watched debris swim back and forth unable to let go.
WriteShed 