The last seconds of the beach.

Curled up in the last seconds of Sunday

Through the rambling roads we drove

Passing villages of old and moving-

Onwards towards the sea

And I smiled for what was no longer there,

For the wicker picnic basket, green open top car and tartan blanket

Sheltered from time's tempest, hiding in the grandfather clock

As we moved, onwards towards the sea

Where we would find treasure troves of an abandoned era

With reminiscent relics of midnight in Paris

And vintage colours for our fast fading cheeks

As we moved, onwards towards the sea

We walked leaving elusive footprints,

Feathered in the impressionable sand

As the departed laughter faded with a wistful sigh,

Into the ether of the painful shimmer of the past

Leaving nothing but you and me

And the crashing lull of the onward coming sea. 

-This is a poem I wrote a while ago, inspired by a strangely beautiful day out with a friend and coming to the end of secondary school. Definitely not my best writing but oh well! 

-Philippa x