Beneath a coat flapping in the wind,
sand drifting into hollows abandoned
by families of picnickers,
a boy and a girl shelter
in the womb of first love.
The white August sea
roars its warning of Autumn to come.
Forty years ago we were caught
by the same cold north wind,
dunes dulled by a dark
cloud crowded sky,
hands locked together
in a sense of isolation.
You and I cocooned against the world.
That was our castle, our fortress,
our protective skin.
Outside the world moved, changed.
The ebb and flow, darkness and light.
Stone into sand.
Inside we were invisible.
The years have passed.
The tide has turned and turned again.
The sand has shifted, grain by grain.
But here, in this familiar wind,
love remains, shines as bright
as a Spring sunrise.
In the wet sand, I once again write
your name next to mine.
Poem: Geoff Holland 2003
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