Alone,
on the shore,
near our family home,
familiar wide horizon fills
with shades
of deep
grey.
Drawn
to the depths
I stand here again,
exposed to the rawness,
as thunderous
waves
crash.
Collecting
cairns of pebbles
distracts me for a while,
yet those piles
of perfect
three inchers
won't bounce
across the beyond
no matter
how
hard I
throw them.
Once
you
taught me
how this works.
In awe,
I counted.
So I'm stood
bending low
soaking
wet
from salt
streaked face.
Surely,
I'm
grinding sand
in my teeth
whilst
skimming
these dark leagues;
yelling unanswerable questions,
with each exacting throw.
Unfathomable
pain
expelled.
Again.
The sea
will
soon turn
and
forget
my anger.
Here.
Today.
Where
once
we
collected
shells,
decorated
pebble forts,
with
driftwood
towers
and
seaweed
flags.
Defences
that
don't
protect
us.
How
I miss
you
still.