Written by Heather Williamson
Is the worst kind of torment
You cannot make your way
With any speed
But you tire so soon
And still your destination is
No nearer
On the way to the sea
It isn’t so bad
You can cool your feet
In the waves
Bliss
But returning home
Pockets full of shells
Thirsty
So thirsty
But keeping the last of the water
To wash your feet
At the top of the steps
Doesn’t matter
It would be warm now anyway
Text © Heather Williamson
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