Never Look Back
The track I walk on, to the top of the hill
where I can see the sea, is falling into
neglect, overgrown, dry weeds crinkle
underfoot, made smooth and slippery by
the unforgiven August sun.
The sea afar is blue with glitter on, just
as a postcard: “come sail on me,” it says.
I did once, long time ago. I used to stand
on iron deck, look towards shore, dream
of mountains, streams and lakes.
Clouds sail across the sky, sea darkens
gets restless frothy waves, are gored by
dagger sharp cliffs; endless war the sea
will win. Farewell, I shall walk on this
path again, the bygone is another dream.