Will you one day, take me far out west
To the coastal paths of Wales
Where Pembrokeshire holds memories
Of sifting sand and sails.
I long to walk with you at Newport sands
To find that golden, shrunken beach
that in childhood days stretched infinitely
For miles beyond my reach.
To seek the seaweed’s gold and green
To smell their salty taste.
To pop the bubbled plastic forms
Like tapioca paste.
Remember too, those rocks of slate
Their hues of brawny blue,
Fierce barriers of ancient weight
In towering solitude.
But most of all I miss the waves
Like gentle curling lace
And wilder days of fearful joy
When seas roared about my face.
What is it then when we are young
That holds our mind in trance
Absorption in a search for shells
Gives time a ghostly dance.