THE vibrant flowers gently wave

From the flowerbed where they have risen

Christ-like from the tomb of the earth

And on this calm late March day

The water is mimicking a lake

With only gentle ripples licking the shore

Seagulls captaining boats which sail no more.

My shadow strolls by my side, a ghost

Under snow-white clouds mingling

With the welcome blue on this early spring day

As I sit on a bench and contemplate.

A train roars past but it's nearly empty

As it nears Barry Island, journey's end

Yet I prefer peace before crowds descend.

Guy Fletcher