29 August 2003


the seagull yells: you, in despair
lament your distance from the sea
the sea where you would like to be
moved by the scent of salty air

but to get there steps are needed
across the town, over the bridge:
walk up the slope, get to the ridge
don't let your thirst for sea go un-heeded

make your descend with feet and hands
feeling your way down the rough cliff
refreshed b'the spray of crashing waves

below the ridge there lies the sand
where you will lie, toil turned to bliss,
dream-eyed and quietly awake.

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