Most days I would try to write a poem; it is a practice, as I suppose is meditation, or smiling, or watching the world go by
Saturday, 23 June 2012
Take
Take in the air
The smell of the sea
The stench of seaweed
Beached by incoming tide
Take in the sound
The soft splash of leaves
The shriek of gull
Swooping for your ice-cream
Take in the view
The unhurried horizon
The tar splattered rocks
Of the environmental disaster
Take in the touch
The so submissive sand
The discarded broken bottle
That gashes your careless barefoot
Take in the taste
The neeps & tatties
The stale steak and ale pie
Left on the squalid pantry shelf
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