Mersea Sea, Mersea Me

I need a sea fix
Its time to go
To smell it & see it
And hear it too.

The horizon so far and yet so near
If I reach out I can touch it here.
I can trace a line across from here to there
And watch it till it disappears.

The fear of water draws me close
To almost touch it with my toes
To run & jump & frolic so
To dash away from waves that lick and tease.

To follow the foreshore and search the pebbles
For treasure & loss
And death & shells.

Old bricks & glass,
green, red & white
And oyster shells so large & bright,
Embedded with blue mussels.

Old breakers stand, but only just,
Dark black rotten teeth
bite into the sky
And sink it down in deep dark grey.

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Filed under Writing: Prose & Poetry

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