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.
