Tidal sands
Bounding over the shifting sands
The smell of seaweed in the air
O’ how I love this land
Running round without a care
The sound of waves upon the shore
Sunshine warm on my back
I have all this yet I’m poor
The gorse shall be my champac
White winged birds swoop and dive
Whilst I dig following the retreating tide
Children call me to play
I feel so young, so alive
My favourite place in the entire world
But I’m kept from most, how perturbed
I know not how such things unfurled
My happiness is quite superb
I hear my name upon the air
Call with kindness called with flair
Time had no meaning to my day
I sleep and dream I eat and play
She is standing close her voice is soft
Her legs are wet from the tidal broth
Hands dry me down with a scented cloth
I walk beside her, her faithful dog.
