by Ann Dineen

 

I will top up and go, alight the iron horse that knows the way

Shackles released, they gather at my feet, biding their time

Speed past houses that get bigger, spaces between them grow greener

Trees wave their branches in greeting as we rush on by

 

Step from the train, smell of the sea triggers a wave of memories

Past the candy floss and lip gloss, no one whispers on the seafront

The busy tide is almost out; I wonder as I age does it get further away?

Toddlers race retreating water slip slide in mud oozing between toes

 

Gulls screeching, with yellow beaks that speak, mocking my absence

They circle and soar, turn wings to the wind, swoop down with ease

Pavements, their ocean as they dive not for fish, but for chips that fall

Upon starlings, that await no invitation, dart forward, flashing iridescence

 

Watch donuts bob in a sea of oil as they fry, a sugary suspense

The smell will linger on my clothes like a sweet memory

The sun goes down, expectations rise, youngsters circling each other in herds

All anointed in cologne, the scent of excitement trails them

 

Homeward, I choose the quite carriage, a carriage I know will be the loudest

Monday, a confetti of freckles on face, pleasant tingle of sunburn on shoulders

On days when the shackles tighten and chaff, close my eyes,

The seafront appears with the tide that comes in, goes out, like my breath

 

 

Copyright Ann Dineen 2019