Almost forgotten pleasures of feeling
Sand squelching, between my toes
The sound of sea rolling, to its
Ebb and flow, of ceaseless time.

That one moment, to remember
A holiday of happiness, with family
Bright sunshine, the beach hut
On the concrete esplanade at the base of the cliff.

At the end of the mock Tudor huts
The beach shop, ice creams to beach balls
Dad took a penny, from his pocket
Scratched a small cross on the concrete.

He placed the penny five foot from each of us.
“With this tennis ball, if you hit the penny
Is yours, If I hit it, it remains mine”
For a long time, we threw that ball.

Time and again, that penny went down
Shirts off, we played, until late
Camomile lotion soothed the burning
That night, before sleep slipped in.

Staying in Aunty Madge’s house
Whilst they went to France
The days past, in wonder
A bedroom each, I was in the box room.

The wooden Ottoman held treasure
Their son, then at Cambridge, hoarded
Underneath wardrobe clothes was a shot-gun,
My brothers were jealous, when I showed them.

Last week in June the first in July
Absent from school, that year was precious to unfold
Outings to the Kent countryside
In the hired car with leather seats.

Those dear people are all dead now
I’m the only one left, but still remember
A simple walk on that sandy beach
When life was so simple, my soul sang.

Mike