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Somewhere Precious
A sun bleached fence facing the sea.
Sand dunes, sea grass, on windblown shore.
Seagulls hovering, wings spread wide,
calling as they’ve done times before.
A welcome break from hard routine.
A pressure gone, a restful spell.
Sitting with backs against the slats,
of this stockade, with fears to quell.
When last we surveyed the blue sea,
the tide was laundering the sands.
As up the beach we watched it race,
and touched its ripples with our hands.
Cool salty air invades weak lungs,
giving us a refreshing lift.
With tickling grains between our toes,
our relaxed minds begin to drift.
The water surging to and fro,
Gives a pleasant hypnotic sound.
Shingle, shale, rocks and cliffs that soar,
is somewhere precious that we’ve found.
poem
by
Ernestine Northover
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