Remembering Geoff ...

Soon Abbotsbury was behind us - each house of glowing stone had its own serene history - St Catherine's Chapel rose dark from its green hill - 

We walked along a narrow road, within sound of the sea, heading north west - the beach was to our left - we scrambled up the high shingle ridge - the bright waves broke below us - 

We stretched out upon the warm pebbles, talking about Geoff - we'd seen wild flowers, growing at the edge of the beach - we wondered what they were - 

Geoff would know Richard said - he'd have a book in his pocket, and he'd know - 

We remembered how he'd linger on walks, examining umbels, studying the flight of birds - 

Geoff had once been part of our young lives - we'd spent a week or so with him in Malham, with Mary from Tallahassee - he'd refused to have his fortune told - 

We wondered what had become of him - 

I thought of other people who had once been precious to me, their voices, their caresses, their laughter - 

I closed my eyes, listening to the sound of the waves - 

11.30

Thursday April 23 2015

The beach, south of Abbotsbury

The northernmost part of Chesil Beach