A Journey Back To The Cottage By The Sea

These older ones are
exponents in the art
of having been here forever.
Their diary-like memories
jostle my own.

And I have been away a long time.
Yet, at ungodly hours,
We narrow the gap,
as she reminds me of when
I first stood on her doorstep,
in clothes only a mother could condone,
jumbo pants, floppy shirt,
a cap, two sizes too big,
propped up by my nose.

She pulls incidents out of the briny air.
My ignorance is an empty frame,
Together, we plug my childhood into it.
June folds sheets and talks.
Her fingers form extra words.

Wind kicks at the window,
belligerent as ever.
The waves below
scan the beach in search of her,
the one who, fifty years before,
danced in and out of them,
barefoot.

I spent some summers here,
in this land of chimney pots,
stark cliffs and squawking gulls.
Two hundred yards away,
the ocean crashes on sand interminably,
won’t let me forget.

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John Grey is an Australian poet, a US resident, and has recently been published in Shift, River And South, and Flights. The latest books, “Bittersweet”, “Subject Matters”, and “Between Two Fires” are available through Amazon. Work upcoming in Rush, Writer’s Block, and Trampoline.