I PASS a woman reflecting on a bench

Then reach the secluded pebbled beach

Where the old Watch House looks so forlorn

Boarded-up as seagulls screech a lament.

The Atlantic air blows through my hair

On this peaceful weekday morning

And dark clouds have now all drifted away

As I watch the waves roll on Watch House Bay.

Seaweed is strewn like bodies

For it’s low-tide on the bay

Seagulls gather like crowds on winkled sand

As a couple stroll to the grey harbour walls.

The sun makes the sea glitter with silver

As the stream flows sedately into the sea

And I think of you now so far away

As I watch the waves roll on Watch House Bay.

Guy Fletcher

Pantmawr

Cardiff