Stories that fly under a dark banner.

The Air and the Water.


Photo credit: lockwood644 from morguefile.com

I dreamed of the Sea and the Sea dreamed of me.
We dreamed of the wash and the roll and the swell.
We slept in our beds while the off shore breeze,
Stirred air in our chest as it rose and fell;
Stirred ships in the harbour, the buoy and bell.

We were the marshland, with Samphir and creeks,
The point and the headland, the bank and the round,
We were the cockle beds rippled with pleats,
The coves and the gullies, the whistling sound,
The sea water silver and darkness the ground.

I wriggled my toes in the dry of sand
away from the groynes and their barnacle knots.
We bunched up the tide; gripped it tight in our hands,
Waves were our blankets, the beaches our cots.
On the pebbles where the foam and the motion stops.

I dreamed of the Sea and the Sea dreamed of me.
Over the dunes in my head I ran but could not make it…

…please let me reach; please let me see.

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