Postcard

Day trip, short-break, summer hols –
having a lovely time with the sand-between-my-toes,
seaweed sliding round my ankles,
watched by the donkey’s sunset gaze
and frisbee-d back to the salt-and-vinegar years
when you were here –

train-ride, coach-trip, car full of hope –
a knicker-bocker-glory by the clunking jukebox,
smokey lungs cleared by the gusting air
pushing me up to a pint at the Albert
and egg and chips with the salt-and-vinegared cheers,
feeling you near –

gift-shop, whelk-stall, souvenir-stand –
choosing a snap to say I love you on six-by-four
with a fading sun sliding down the bandstand
as the trombones melt into sepia,
hearing your whisper on the salt-and-vinegared pier,
wishing you were here.