We'd sit on smooth stones, remembering northern skies ...

Penelope and I picked our way over the beach - 

I felt the shape of every pebble beneath my feet - 

My worn boat shoes were stained with salt - 

A small boat with a single mast was moored offshore -  

Above White Nothe were rain heavy clouds - 

The sea was a dark mirror - 

A wooden rowing boat had been drawn up to the top of the beach - 

Steps led to a wild garden - 

The wind stirred the pine trees facing the sea - 

Penelope and I had hoped to swim here - 

Some other day we'd do this - 

We'd sit on the smooth stones, remembering northern skies - 

11.35

Tuesday 13 September 2016

Ringstead Bay

Dorset