Overstrand by Suzanne King

[SLKing]

Overstrand

It was bank holiday and we were late getting away;
Eleven thirty on that mild Monday morning, mother fussed, father moaned,

as we swerved over newly tarmac roads.
Leaving Lincolnshire landscape changed: fields met hawthorn hedges, rivers ran under bridges.

Skies changed, grey, then black, then down it came: rain,

The car slowed, I thought of the sea and sand as we waited for the train to pass;

left or right – a game we played, and how many carriages to be displayed.


We hurried towards the coast, Wells-next-the-Sea, with bunting lined streets,

I wind down the window and the sea reaches my nose.

Holiday makers carried their buckets and spades,

Father curses as the fuel gauge lows, nearing the cottage down the road,

I see sky meets sea and reflections of yellows, purples and mauves.

Mother smoothes her coat and gathers her flock, wipes my mouth with her frock,

I frown, but understand, as we have arrived in Overstrand.

[tepih]

Very nice - you reading it in a hard copy or ebook?

[SLKing]

Hi, thanks, it's not published - it's one of my poems.