Sea-scape
I recall past summers by the sea,A place where people like to be. In golden sands, that slipped through the toes, and, into eyes-with wind that blows.
Defying wind-breaks, creeping in ate
Gritty sandwich, grinned sandy grin..
At ' our old dad' buried to his chin.
Where sea-waves foamy fingers mingle,
With roar and clatter, on the shingle,
Still moves my spine to slightest tingle,
That seems to grow and grow...
Up to the point of gentle silence,
In oceans ebb and flow.
Paul Nicklin