Wednesday, 22 February 2017

You and me and the sea

Sitting in a cafe, drinking tea
I see this sign in the gift shop ahead of me:
You, me and the sea.

And just now, I feel blue as the sky,
my sadness deep as the darkest sea
sitting here, thinking of you
no longer here with me.

I walk the wild cliff path
unattached, like a cloud, hands dangling free,
imagining you are here with me:
you, me and the sea.

But I walk here alone,
stare now and then at my phone,
hope for a connection,
tired of looking at my own reflection.
But there is no signal, nobody home.
I'm alone, just me and the sea.

I balance rocks on the sand,
feel the rough and smooth of your hand
in mine and the fine kind of time
we might have had together
if you were here with me:
you, me and the sea.

I draw a heart in the sand on the beach.
You feel so near but always out of reach,
your face a mirage that I cannot touch.
Today, I miss you so very much.

I think of how much you would love to be
here with me, on a trip to sea.

And I wonder if you watch me still,
sitting small as a stone, alone on a hill
thinking of you, me and the sea.