There is nowhere
There is nowhere
I would rather be
Than lying on white sand
With my eyes closed
Listening to summer waves breaking
Feeling the pull
As the living water laps at my feet
Knowing you are breathing
Next to me.
There was a time
We lay upon a riverbank
As a rowing eight slid by
Followed by another.
We were witness to
A regatta
Of university contestants.
A gaggle of overactive under-grads
Ran along the towpath
Some on bikes with megaphones
Cheerleaders
In powder blue
Full of passion
For the establishment
Of learning
The building of a future.
Parents and dignitaries looked on
From temporary grandstands
A procession of vintage cars
Wound around the cricket ground
As the crowd began to swell.
There were veterans
Old blues with bulging thighs
And midriffs
Bent over feathered oars
Trying to control their
Heavy breathing
Flushed with post-graduate success
So many old Universities
Are built alongside a river
Or so it seems
Streams of consciousness
Floating by
Stimulating academia
The passing of knowledge
From one person to another
Brimful of youth
So evident in the joyful
Faces of young freshers
Whipping up excitement
On a rag run through the city
In fancy dress costumery
For charity.
A simple gift of memory
As the tide turns
On an ocean of introspection.
For some reason,
I remember a lone fisherman
Manoeuvring a coracle
With a single paddle
And marvelled at his skill
I wonder where that was?
There is nowhere I would rather be
Than lying on white sand
With the rise and fall,
The flutter of breath
The sublime motion
Of breathing
And the taste of sea salt
On your lips.