Aberaeron

Days out to the beach
together as we sometimes did
passing tufts of thrift
pink and frilled as ballet dancers
over shingle to the sea
holding hands
 
Walking on shifting sand
spines of sea holly on dunes
waves arguing with stones
dragging backwards from
the inter-tidal line of peaceful
shells.  Your fingers finally slipping
out of mine
 
I climb rocks stuck
with immovable limpets,
seagulls crying as if they know
what it is to be sorry,
the turning sea beating
its head on the sand
 
Angela Edwards Rigby

If you have any thoughts about this poem,  Angela Edwards Rigby would like to hear them.