Six years we’ve waited for this wooden box,
With flaking paint and rusty locks.
There’s barely room to stand,
The floor covered in sand.
The towels are damp and musty
And all the shelves are dusty.
But the kettle and mugs are well in reach
And there’s a great view of the beach.
In the sun we sit and read books
Waves beckon, costumes hanging on the hooks.
Wet and cold return for hot tea,
Strip off and dress in modesty.
The neighbours are close, two inches away,
Her next door is topless today,
His huge stomach should not be seen,
Thank goodness for the screen between.
The other side are out of sight,
Soaring under parachutes bright.
Their boards dip the waves, then ride up high,
We sit and watch them in the sky.
If we fall asleep as we usually do
We won’t notice when they drop from view.
Until we hear roaring whir above the wave
As Coastguard hovers, kite surfers to save.
How to adore new things.
No need to buy, to bring
The sensual delight
Of touch, smell and sight.
John Lewis sells to you
Cotton, wool, silk, bamboo
Knitting yarns, skeins and such,
Many hues, soft to touch.
Call in at the bookshop,
Look out for new stock,
White paper, page pristine,
Smooth spine, jacket clean.
Tack shop for leather new
Saddles, bridles on view,
Shopkeeper hopes to sell;
No, just here for the smell.
Go down to the saw mill
Experience the thrill,
Newly sawn scented wood,
Golden sawdust feels good.
Ancient ocean, old land,
New waves, new tides, smooth sand,
Grains glitter, sparkling foam,
Before feet start to roam.
Sunrise reveals hard frost,
New scenery at no cost,
White landscape, yours to view,
Air sharp, breath anew.