Perfect Day

I remembered that day today
floating in the ocean with you
as if we were in the Med
everything looked new
it was the perfect day
the sea was glassy
the sand burning underfoot
the sun in the sky
beating down and everything was still.
we ate fish and chips
on the seafront, my wet hair
drip
drip
ing
down my back
as the sun went down
and the heat of the day was gone
the sweet glow that we felt
began to trickle away
as if it had all been a dream.

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Memories

Memories of past springs and summers
are etched onto my skin
like scars

Poem Scribbled on a Clifftop

Spring sun beats down
on my face, waves crash
below
it’s easy to kid ourselves
that summer is nearly here
as we go barefoot in the water.
Up here, the wind is on
my face
my shadows lengthen
seagulls screech up above
and out at sea the water
rocks back and forth.
There is still a chill in the air
and two hopeful surfers bob
out at sea, watching the waves
waiting for the perfect break.
I climb and climb
Until the people on the sand
Are like pin heads.

Rebirth

Daffodil buds struggle to poke
their heads through the snow
that’s beginning to melt under the sun’s gaze.

Overnight, a blizzard blows
come morning, the land is lying
under a white winter blanket.

Spring seems a distant memory
the trees still stand stretched bare
banks sleeping under the snow
but still hope holds on.
Spring is coming – we will
start again.

Untitled Poem

Evenings are lengthening
I watch with joy
as daylight stretches out
pushing the darkness back
so that it no longer feels
like a threat, like the weight
of it is caving in on us.
now, the darkness is like putty
in our hands, we can mould,
fit it so that we are not lost
and when it does come,
we know that it won’t last for long.

 

WAKING

Waking, to sunlight streaming
birds singing on the telephone wire
the smell of spring, something warming up, evolving
filters in through the open window
and although I huddle down, cold,
it reminds me of what’s to come –
the joy of spring and summer
the leap out of bed in the morning
with the warm promise of the day ahead.

Spring is in the air, early as it is
daffodils are forming on the banks
yellow buds appearing like promises
bluebell shoots push their way through
the wood floor, through rotting leaves, green shoots
scattered under the bare, blank trees
that form a waiting canvas
their arms outstretched, like skeletons.

Sunlight in through the window
warms my back, my face
the first real warmth of the season –
reminds me that this is what it feels like.

But in the shadows, the cold
still lingers, reminds us that
we’re racing ahead and time,
time is only trying to trick us.

 

THE WATER

Take me to the water
let me hear the waves crashing
feel the salt on my hair and skin
the sand scrunching beneath my toes.

Take me to the water
let me dive in, glide underneath
the chlorine clings to my skin
long after I’m home.

Take me to the water
let me soak it in
and rest my weary bones
as it heals me once again.