Walking with Lily

My dress had tulips dancing in the weave,

Matching bloomers - puffy with a pocket.

Lily took my hand and swung me off the tram.

With joy we ran the sands of Southport beach,

clutching apples, meat-paste sandwiches with ham.

Lily, my Aunt and honorary child,

who knew the bliss of wriggling shoe-freed feet

to crinkle into damp sand and leave wet pools;

who didn’t mind me spoiling pristine tulips

When we sat salt-sticky on the dunes to eat

Off came Lily’s shoes, silk stockings,

suspenders left to their own devices.

Lily laughed and sang as we skipped for hours,

surfing endless sands to splash and paddle

in the distant ebbing tide. Far away - towers

of Southport, horizoned behind the dunes

told us that the hour was late. The seagulls

called out “stay!”, but they can fly, we had to walk,

to leave the sea, the setting sun. Our foot-prints

fading into nothingness behind us.

Our perfect day had left us both

too tired to talk.