![]() Sea SpumeA Poem by David Lewis PagetOften I sit at the soul’s soft reach Where the tide sweeps in to a lonely beach, Where the rollers roll and the breakers break To tug at the strings of an old heartache. Where the swell will rise till it reaches the sky When it breaks with the spume, so white, so high, To race to the shore with a fume and a roar Then retreat to the sea as it will, once more. And then comes the girl I see in my dreams As she wades in the tide to the waist, it seems, I watch as she walks, her hair flying free Her shawl dripping wet with the spray from the sea. And each time I see her, down at the shore I think of some maiden from old folk lore, Her skirt in the water right up to the knee She leans at the wind, but she never sees me. One day he rose from the spume and the spray A man grim-faced with his hair so grey, He lurched from the water and reached for her wrist, And when she resisted, he gave it a twist. Then she called out with a voice like a bell A sound, if you like, like a cockleshell, I heard her cry he should let her be, Not plague her with love, she’d like to be free. I knew I should help, but the tide was high, And where I was sat it was warm and dry, He dragged her through rollers that covered her head, As far as I know, that girl is dead. So often I sit at the soul’s soft reach Where the tide sweeps in to a lonely beach, Where the rollers roll and the breakers break To tug at the strings of an old heartache. David Lewis Paget © 2016 David Lewis PagetReviews
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5 Reviews Added on October 3, 2016 Last Updated on October 4, 2016 Tags: soul, breakers, spray, cockleshell Author
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