Exchanging Molecules

Granddad’s chair beckoning
Long gone the owner
To sit upon it not an option
Trespassing on his domain
It has become him
Saturated with him
A thrill is touching the arms
Stroking the soft cushion
I hear him laughing
As we exchange molecules

Standing in the corner
On the left side of the bed
Long gone the owner
Dad’s trusty walking stick
Hesitating hand reaches out
Caressing the worn rosewood
We are holding hands
I am a child again
As we exchange molecules

March: 2007

A Walk on Chesil Beach

The shingled stone beach stretches far ahead.
Turning, I see a shingled beach mirrored behind me.
To my right, rounded stones heaped high above my eye-line.
On the left, waves break and lick my boots.
The great bank, sweeps to the left, below a winter blue sky,
lacerated with unhappy looking clouds
They, in turn, look up. Above them, aeroplannic lines.
Man-made clouds, Nuevo-riche masters of the skies.

Closer now - very close, kneeling, I turn a pebble.
Sand-flees scatter, searching for new shelter
under the sea-honed stones and the sea tossed seaweed salad.
Tiny crabs, moving thumbnails, coyly back away from my prying eye.
I leave them in peace to await their tidal feast

Upright once more, I scan the sea - a cold grey fish soup,
far too over-salted for my pampered palate

Three score paces, and ten more, bring me to a fallen tree.
A bleached sand and salt soaked skeleton, bark-less and lifeless,
far from the soil from whence it was ripped by forgotten winter storms.
Long abandoned by feathered home-seekers.
Cellulose bones laying undigested, food for waves and winds

Invisible fingers, gently massage my cheeks and tousle my hair;
I remember the impatience of  approaching rain squalls.

I climb the shingle hill, search out my rubber-booted steed.
Standing high, I scan a final scan, to the left and to the right.
Mind refreshed, eyes re-opened, lungs refurbished,
I bid farewell again to Chesil beach, my secret, stone hearted lover.