The House by the Sea

Winter leaves a land

of still anticipation,

bathed in orange light.

~

Biscuits, coffee, nestled in

his ship – a cutter perched on rusty

barrels, small before the sun.

~

A nearby nest of lanes – the garden

done, she heads to yellow flames, as coldness comes,

and cuts, and the colours merge to grey.

~

And as they sink within the

night, I think of them, the single house,

the trees and whispering sea.

~

When I return, the

smiles will be warm, and I will

find a part of me.

Big Triku ‘Helping at a Show’

Alone, I walked the

empty halls – stopped by a view

of the cold grey sea.

~

And I found friends inside, and

people flowed in in swelling tides with

voices as warm as summer.

~

I might know what such

days can be, if I let them

rise to memory.