My Poetry: As the Sun Warms My Thighs (looking out on Lyme Bay)

As the Sun Warms My Thighs (looking out on Lyme Bay)

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Lyme Bay from a hill in West Bay looking toward Lyme Regis

As the sun warms my thighs
green unkempt blades
of a sighing lawn
wave lazily to the leaves
of a hunched tree…

as the sun warms my thighs,
a silent wind
whispers through the air,
pushing my hair
to angles I would not dream
to brush it…

as the sun warms my thighs,
I turn a listless ear
to gulls’ cry
and hushed lovers
strolling holding hands,
or eating lunch…

as the sun warms my thighs,
I place my glasses in my breast pocket
and gaze upon a fuzzy sea
glistening like broken glass
on a world
lest its hard edges…

as the sun warms my thighs,
my head spins
with the weight of beauty –
the now, the lost and the visceral;
burdening my soul
with sad reflections…

as the sun warms my thighs,
I wonder why I wanted
the sun not to rise
the moon to hide
from my days made surreal
by your touch, now departed...

As the sun burns my thighs,
I decide to leave
my sea-beaten seat
to take the quiet walk
on the churchyard path
back home…

and as the sun warms my shoulders,
I stop to read the names,
on tombstones that jut,
like hobo’s teeth,
between fresh flowers and confetti,
faded names
of children and grandfathers
who once held court
like I,
who once felt the warmth and wind,
like I,
and who once felt love
now departed,
like I.