A Shoreline Somewhere
written by: John Grey
I’m strolling the sea-cliff edge
as morning sun streaks through plump clouds,
below me, a wall of gull quarries
and a beach loaded with rocks and dunes.
It’s years ago, when the step was surer,
with heights unencumbered by risks of falling,
and the shrill cry of birds, a herald for the heart,
as waves flooded sand, whipped rocks to a standstill.
The place is a blur. So is the time of year.
But the breeze, the blueness, the horizon, come clear.
Though much has been forgotten,
the rest can’t be improved upon.
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