Weybourne
I swim at night
Off the shingle here
When the moon rages
And the stars are clear
When stones are thrown
By an angry sea
Onto the beach
Chaotically
I float like a seal
And you can tell
I’m quite at home
On this dark swell
No longer a creature
Of the land
I could grow gills
Or burrow in the sand
Or flip my heals
And take a dive
Into the deepness
And still survive
For I was never made
For solid ground
My legs too weak
To walk around
My heart
Always too cold
For human things
Has now grown old
So I’ll be here
When the sea grows still
Or the old wood comes
Down Dead Man’s Hill
For I swim at night
Off the shingle here
When the moon rages
And the stars are clear |