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
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