Beyond the mountain pass, past scattered rocks

the sea appears; a familiar shimmer of blue

flecked with transient wisps of white.

 

Along squigglous roads anticipation builds,

and my destination plays peekaboo between

wind-warped trees and sheep-shorn fields.

 

I park at the sea wall, disembark into the ozone

aroma of Atlantic waves mingled with turf smoke;

ageless yet redolent of ages past.

 

There, where we played on the surf-rippled shore,

children still scamper across the silver strand,

giggling, shrieking echoes of distant years.

 

I see swirls of effervescing spume,

hear screaming gulls soaring, feel summer’s swelter

echoed in this glorious, timeless place.

 

And when the familiar sand oozes between my toes,

memories that I thought long forgotten

still dampen the corners of my eyes.