Marjorie mulls the passing man and fly
The marriage window has gone by
Her hair lies dank n' grey in sobern grief
Her clothes befit a teenage thief

Rejection is a common theme
Daily survival is the daily dream
She plays with beads and hears the chime
The grandfather clock, true keeper of time

She smiles when asked to play the part
Of successful daughter, mother and heart
But reality bites when she is inept
Losing in life she always accepts

Sun flickers through icy fog
Driving to the forest screen sodden with damp due
Arriving to the sounds of bikes, people and dog

Starting out with cold hands
I take the six mile trip
Like some middle age horse
My breath forms an airy aerosol in front of me

Trail shoe lugs grip in
Legs begin to loosen
As my hands move from cold to luke warm

Bikes and people cross at invisible traffic lights
Smiling runners greet me half way through
My cadence quickens

The gate beckons
I stop to walk
Time to stretch
Time to talk

Three miles of white sand
Fit into my hand
As I look out to sea
Mussenden Temple sets us free

The hills at the top
Look up, what a drop
Teenage time full of fun
Screaming to the bottom of 'the big one'

Forty five degrees to the wind
Sand, grit doesn't rescind
Nowhere to the South
Nearly at the bar mouth

I turn and it blows
My back takes a lift
Portstewart in the distance
I brace for resistance