over a quaint bridge and stream
then the magical sight of Amroth beach
enchants my eyes on this February afternoon.
I picture the floods years ago
as I walk over pebbles feeling free
heading towards a cold silvery sea.
There were cottages here once
that fell into the merciless waters
and I imagine the ghosts of the inhabitants.
Bruised clouds hang over Saundersfoot,
my reflection also like a spirit
on the wet mirror sand of the vast shore,
I listen to the wind and ocean roar.
A few hardy ones saunter on the beach
and dogs race across the alluring bay.
The tide ebbs and a procession of breakers sizzle
but no one is paddling today
yet I can breathe far from the city
with a bracing breeze as I gently stroll
a rich contentment...deep down in my soul.