Our feet airless
Our souls full
We drank the sea
As her gulls flew homeward and gone.
I could have sworn that I had not seen as much sky before.
The jetty was never ours.
Trees solemnly took oath beside dirt path,
And stone listened.
The dark suited the forest,
And once the forest was dressed,
Night sank to the green, upwards down,
Where they held each other until morning.
You told me stories of years back,
As I told you stories I had read,
And you are music in all you say,
Whilst I stumble into quiet.
Laughter glittered in the gloaming,
As the horizon spilt purple
and mixed with ink.
Yes, the jetty was never ours.
Yet that night, it might have been.
I scribble it onto a loose page
And tuck time into a book.
The bedside jetty is never far away,
My slumber floats at sea.
Megan Hopkin