TJ (17th June 1958 / England)

A Breed And A Half Apart

She made my day,
Though she will never know it this side of Heaven…..

Sitting in the lee of a wonky, wooden beach-hut:
An amiable old codger of a bulwark
Against the rising tide of brick-built ne’er-do-wells,
Faces hove vaguely into view barely half a groyne away,
Resolving themselves, grey and damp, from a feature-fogging mist.
Few showed sign of a smile for their life or their lot,
A monochrome veil of melancholy drawn down from faces to feet
Dragging their personal contribution
To the woes of the world
In their wake.

Kids were a good breed-and-a-half apart from adults:
Capable of seeing through anything the day threw at them
To the potential for play
Hiding, but never beyond the seeking and finding,
In every waking moment.
A vanguard of high-velocity voices
Heralded the charge of a small Seventh Cavalry
On skate-board and scooter-back
Looming, ghost-like, out of the mist
To put the fear of god
Into any under-employed deckchair attendant
(or other available ‘enemy’) .

From above a pretty pink ‘armour’ of elbow pads
And below the protective presence of a sturdy cycle helmet,
Two dark brown eyes met mine.
I didn’t see the whole smile –
Her bike-speed saw to that –
But the first half alone was more than enough
To burn off all the mist
In a month of Bank Holiday Mondays.

User Rating: 4,8 / 5 ( 4 votes ) 2

Comments (2)

Cant agree with the last comment at all Tony - this piece was a thrill from start to finish. Beautifully executed. thank you and 10 from Fay.
A Little tedious in its musicality, but nevertheless a fine poem; mostly strung together from the heart with shades of intellect woven in well done little lamb