On the beach again

We have walked so many times
so many hours on this beach.
You were small then.
With faltering steps.
It seemed
your legs did not belong to your body.
So we laughed. Not at you.
Rather: your cuteness
you were trying to be so brave.

You ran away from time to time
carried away with the sea
the breeze, the moment.
On you raced: running
through the salty seaside puddles.
Once, you ploughed under.
The water much deeper than you expected.
You were swamped.

The look on your face!

We picked you up,
to make you feel better.
To make you feel secure.

Your little heart beating, fast
your warmth, full of cuddles.
Youth abundant.
Unconditional affection.
You wriggled so much!
Desperate to be free again.
To run the beach
the breeze
chase the gulls.

And now?

You are so much older.
Me too.
Although you:
you seem to have aged
faster.

Your steps  
not so confident.
You do not ‘stride out’
as you did when you were young
alert, invincible.
You missed nothing then.

And tonight?
A stunning twilight orange glow
on the beach again.
Golden, pearlescent sand
waves lapping
gently
to and fro.
Have also slowed in time it seems.

Is that coincidence?
Is it just imagination?
After-all: time is relative
(so they say).

But I know
these moments are numbered.
When we were younger
they seemed endless.
But now?

I am aware
you will soon be gone.
These evening walks with you
gone too.
And when you do go
what will I be left with?

A broken heart?

Or a sense of who you were

and how you loved us.

As man’s best friend.

image; Art Johnstone. ‘Murphy - a mans best friend’. In his garden - in his prime. Waikino New Zealand