Ten minute walk.

From the bungalow to the beach it took ten minutes,
Up hill and down lane passing the Catholic Church,
A small country primary school and row of council houses;
Then at the crossroads by the Post Office, selling sweets,
With Turf Walk to your left and hotels on the right,
Began the steep decline, to the sound of an incoming tide.

Once a year, this first day of The Family Summer Holiday,
Shievering with excitement, buckets and spades in hand,
Wanting to run, to find last year's spot of sand and water,
The seaweed and rock pools, boulders and clumps of clay,
The joy of an eternal return, the comfort of familiarity,
Where play had ceased and foot prints been washed away.

IOW ,Totand Bay by Mary x