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Solace in Solitude
I gaze abroad, all sides of me,
sea upon tempestuous sea,
and in the midst St. Levan's hold.
What mystic stories might be told?
The waves crash in upon the beach,
and cast their spray into the wind;
a damp, grey mist hangs like a veil,
to hide the sailors' view of land.
The sea draws back and shingles takes,
within its grasp to hold once more,
and then, as if with sweet revenge,
casts back those shingles to the shore.
With jingle jangle in my ears
I watch cascading shingles slide,
as if entranced by the rhythmic dance
and hypnotic motions of the surging tide,
to be swallowed up and washed away,
then thrown right back on another day.
A fascinating place for me,
this beach of changing face and mood.
To lose myself in sights and sounds,
escape from things that might confound;
a brief respite to ease the mind
lets answers come when I unwind;
there's solace in my solitude.
© Copyright:- 10 January 2008 - Kenneth G Woolcock
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