It’s been a long
drive and I dig into Simon’s leg with the exclamation, “Look at that welcome Baby.”
Bunting triangles -
so high they deck the sky,
zig-zagging a
nautical blue and white, at such a height,
tacking cheerily through Dorset's twilight.
I can’t wait to
see the place I harbour such affection for, bathed in sunshine. This place, this British
town, beside the seaside.
Beside the sea
turn right at the roundabout, up that street, beyond the bowling green: there’s
our retreat.
We’re finally here
and out the car… smell the tide. Hooray,
three cheers. We’ve arrived. Children and parents somewhat bleary eyed.
Oh buoy, oh buoy;
look back to the harbour. The fishing boats, resting now, heave up and down, stern
and bow. The sailing masts that sit in between them talk to each other in tinker.
Kids quiet, tucked
in and snoozing, and from where we sit, Simon and I can see it all. Including
that instantly recognisable wall. You know the one? Once cloaked in
Meryl Streep… That film that
made us all so weep?
The sea is
sparkling. Dancing. The daylight is dimming and lights like a row of tears all a-blur are
flickering: Gold bulbs, the corn on the Cobb.
We sit and drink
in the view until slumber hijacks us both. And as I slip into
sleep, I’m sure I hear the breeze through the open window whisper, “welcome back.”
2 comments:
Absolutely brilliant and what is even better, I know exactly and can picture just what you are talking about. Although we only spent a couple of hours together, it was one of my favourite memories of the summer :) Thank you so much for linking this to Prose for Thought. Great to have you back xx
Ah thanks Vicky. It was really lovely that day wasn't it... chocolate and banana pasties to boot! x ps good to be back!
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