Later, You
Returned to the Sea
To
the coast, what other setting but by the shore.
We
crept along the promenade holding hands,
staying
close in the cold.
You
were reluctant to step onto the sand
in
canvass shoes, so I piggy-backed you
towards
the surf, and the bank of wet stones.
A
sprig of seaweed, typical litter, a twig.
I
set you down there, safe
and
threw a rock or two seawards; you laughed.
Hooking
yourself to me and using my feet
as
stilts to keep out the damp.
I
leant in. You turned back.
The
wind now whipping hard at our necks
and
I can taste the salt of the chips we had.
Christy Hall is
the tenant and manager of a pub in Beverley, East Yorkshire. He is a graduate
of the Creative Writing Master’s course at Hull University. He has had poems
published throughout the U.K as well as in America. He hopes one day to publish
his own collection.
