Wednesday, 14 August 2013

Harbour Heights

If I could chose,
I'd move us to a rocky shore,
stone built cottage, garden pots and perched on breezy slope.

I'd wash our cotton stripy clothes and pin them on a rope.

I'd make the tea,
china mugs of blue and cream,
singing kettle, chocolate biscuit, paperback to read.

It wouldn't take a lot of much to find the things I need.

To find the sea,
morning light and salted breeze,
buoys and coloured wooden boats of daily fishing fleet.

You know the place, you'd come and stay, I'm sure you know the street.

Gulls to dive and heron flight,
string of lanterns lit at night,
summer sun and winter storm and ever changing tide.

Cobbled lane to climb and fall,
painted door and harbour wall,
red and white and navy bunting strung from post to post.

I'd make it there (with you in tail) and we'd live by the coast.

If you enjoy my writing you might enjoy my little book - A Familiar Voice.

I'm linking today's post with the wonderful Prose For Thought.


  1. Sounds ever, beautifully written x

  2. Don't you already live by the coast? What you describe is kind of how I picture you living at the moment. You have a wonderful knack of writing of homesickness while you are at home. :-)

    1. Ha ha I don't actually! I live in the woods, near the coast but not actually on it. I'd like to be able to throw pebbles from the front door :) x

  3. Sounds gorgeous!!!! Love the idea of the china mug and paperback in hand - feels so relaxing!!!!!

    1. Yes - you could have a writing retreat there! :)

  4. I thought you lived by the sea too! You certainly should, you write about it so often. Lovely as ever. I want to live in the world that you write about.

  5. Like everyone else, I too thought you lived by the sea! Beautifully written as ever :) Thank you for linking to Prose for Thought x


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