The salt sea-wave drives along the deserted shore
Continues in its cold arc across the sands
Driven by the damp wind in twilight—
The sea swells, my soul sinks in rhythm,
Remembering a vision of a warm starry sky
Lying upon one summer's night beside the sea.
Were you there to have come with me
We could have walked along the shore arm-in-arm
Never have wondered, never have cared about
What used to be, or shall be among
The winter sands of future years in waiting
Along this lonesome shore of sea-gulls crying
And we, now into the cold foaming water, wading.
—jim sloman, may 1963
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