THE BOY CREEPS UP ON ME SOMETIMES
The boy creeps up on me sometimes.
Particularly when the wind blusters and begs
For feet to kick around at stones
And set them tumbling down the slope
To where the sea is waiting
Chill and crisp and slaps against the pebble shore
And a black-headed gull mocks
Those on the ground below
Who only dream they are on the seaside
The horizon is an office wall
And the boy, well, he ran away long ago.