Grey sea, nontransparent
You would make it seem bright,
Gazing at the fishermen
Pitching their tools
The one that matched your name.
The little things that were not important
Playful but gladly stuck to me;
Shortbread and tea
And 'How now brown cow.'
Rhymes instead of memories
Which I guess are still memories
Hammered into my brain
As we sang every time I visited
Only realising now
The sand in your hour glass
Was almost run out
And I never knew.
