Just an old man in a pair of long johns
On his balcony that overlooks the sea
Lulled by that slow susurration,
Murmurs of things that used to be;
Endlessly relentlessly bringing to mind
Some things recalled with joy
Others maybe best forgotten
Some of the man, some of the boy.
He watches those dog walkers
Braving that winter windy beach
Watches children, warmly dressed
Hears every joyful yell and screech
As they approach the tide line
Youthfully careless, carelessly brave
Risking a sharp cold soaking
From an unexpectedly fast wave.
In the warmth of his room he watches;
Realises in life's fascinating game
That characters may change,
The processes remain the same.
An old man in his long johns
Sitting contented and at his ease
Listening to the susurration
From those rolling whispering seas.
