Keith Robson | + Follow Poet |
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Sabre Bay

A gentle cough, a quiet word, a morning breeze, a waking bird,
Into her box her letters fall, soft flip flop slippers down a hall,
A radio plays yesterdays, and on the wall a clock face says
That sometimes time talks much too loud, like ego’s clashing in a crowd,
Her percolator’s gurgling rhyme told her that it was breakfast time
So she sat in her window seat, and drank her coffee black and sweet
While musing on the day ahead, so much was still left to be said
Yet life sometimes has many lanes, and some are losses, some are gains.


She stepped outside and locked her door, then slowly walked down to the shore
Deciding that she’d start her day by wandering down Sabre bay,
Where sunlit sea touched glowing flame, and whispers never meant the same
As those that fluttered through the trees, for these were whispers of the seas
And as she walked she seemed to hear, from distant waves though crystal clear
Those messages from long ago, brought back upon the ocean’s flow
From somewhere that they both had been, a distant day, a distant scene
Where time and tide were much the same, a picture in a wooden frame.


And then she sensed them back again, two lovers in the teeming rain
Both shouting at the boiling sea, so footloose and so fancy free
Like gulls in winds they danced aloft, where even storms felt cushion soft
And from the cliffs they watched their day meander off down Sabre bay
Both clasped together with their dreams, at least that’s how the memory seems
Yet soon he had to go again, for some things she could not explain
So many suns, so many moons, so many tear filled afternoons
Despite the fact that she still Prays, her radio still plays yesterdays…

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