A Figure on the Beach.
The sun is low, the summer season passed.
Pale knee reflections in multiple rock pools,
Are caught and left stranded by the retreating sea.
Headscarves, hitched-up hem lines, and much stooping,
Peering into puddles, whilst lover's cuddles
Cast lengthening shadows across seagull screech beaches,
Their toes pressed in cold sand.
Everything feels distant on an out of season shoreline.
White-grey light shimmers from the ripples,
The coastal breeze sketches the edges
Of her autumnal silhouette against the skyline.
Colours fade as the amusement arcade falls silent
Behind padlocked shutters, to return next summer,
Like a much-favoured toy from its box.
Circus posters in the streets are fading.
Local residents are now reclaiming their town
From departing holiday makers, dodgem car shakers,
As she leaves the sea's breakers for the comfort of a cafe.
And then, tea for one, maybe a warm scone
“With a small jar of jam on the side?”
“I shouldn't really, oh go on then”.
She sits alone, looking beyond the window glass,
Her mind focused on something past,
Another season, long ago.
On an out of season seaside beach,
A solitary figure and a silly dog.
The kind of dog that seems to belong to everybody,
Just for one day.
The Gift.
Tick tock from the mantelpiece
Measuring time,
A gift from the council
At the end of the line.
Forty years loyal service,
Giving his best,
A gift from the council
Now measures what's left.
Chimes through the household
Punctuate every hour,
A gift from the council,
Mini mantle clock tower.
The day passes slowly
To its soap opera end,
A gift from the council,
A clockwork cold friend.
All text copyright ian gordon craig
These poems would be published in my book "46 Contemporary Poems".
