Clovelly
And this lot ?
Don't they know
about the spry old lady
set upon and vanished
at the opposite end of the bay ?
I was once bold as this lot,
but I didn't like
what I couldn't see
peering into the secretive deep.
The last to leave me here
looked thoughtful enough,
perhaps, though, only
to mirror my own gaze.
Had my hand been too fond
or too cold ?
I still don't know her,
but I may have known the rest
only, somehow, in her.
She sailed with regret, perhaps,
but secured her children
as only a mother could do.
Neither they nor she
would be set upon,
nor vanish at this end of the bay;
they vanished from me,
though not from the bay,
she vanished only from me.
15th August 2020
Copyright © Lawrence Sharp | Year Posted 2020
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