The sky is as grey as the pebbles

Cold sea unwelcoming to swimmers.

Snow dances to its doom in the Channel

A rare visitor to golden sand

But more alluring with each flake

Possessing a unique shape of its own

As I wander to the sea’s edge alone.

The Channel’s roar is muted

Snow melting on arrival in the sea

A reminder we are just a heartbeat

In the universal body.

I wonder if ghosts drift on this bay

Beautiful in show or a sky of blue

In a bitter breeze I admire the view.

Guy Fletcher

Pantmawr

Cardiff