when my stride was so much longer,
The turquoise sea is restless today,
breeze blowing gloom from my soul
for I've always adored this coast.
It is high tide and waves crash over the wall
and from solemn clouds rain begins to fall
yet the moody scene has a beauty of its own.
There's a hole in the rock van Gogh
would have loved to paint in his inimitable way.
I drink tea at the new café
in the rain for the seats are outside
but Coryton Cove is not all it seems,
soaking sleeping bags showing broken dreams
and boats in the harbour with rotting timber.
However, children in wet suits surf and laugh
watched by the seagulls which guard
the causeway, now mostly submerged.
The beach huts are locked bar one
where an ageing man and dog can be found
as I listen to the sea's rhythmic sound.