Red

I do not notice, till now, that my feet stroke the bed sheets constant; toes curled, hopelessly try to grasp sand in the northern sea swell. Skegness. Beautiful tomorrows, endless days. The sea goes on forever but today it is mine. Look beyond the wind-breakers, sausage rolls and scorched Yorkshire noise. The grey sea is forever: to the horizon and beyond. There is hope of escape.

To be the first is a daunting task. But if one has no knowledge of this, or has been given to think this is not the case, then he is the one all others are judged by. Other than this scenario you, they, become predecessor. There is too much responsibility for taking of one’s cherry. For a boy it is a relief but for a young woman it is something much more. Through the city I see long red hair: for a second I am weak and forlorn. Excited with fluttering heart. One day she will return to these rain drenched shores.