Thoughts. Ideas. Scribbles.

Bamburgh on the Beach

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 
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.

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