needing comfort one crisp autumn morn
my daughter and I went out sailing
and beneath our rocking wooden boat
we saw a glass-like sea-shell shining.
[upon a stone halfway to the abyss
smooth without seams it called to us –
in wet suits and snorkels we descended
– breathing in deep the salt crisp air]
floundering, nearly drowning to reach the rock
which had seemed to be well within reach
without pretty words I called off the search –
but then gifted her a George Tooker print.
© G.s.k. ’15
I’m using the words from “Sunday’s Whirligig” which came from “Nightingale” by Tony Morris: daughter, rocking, words, wooden, needing, beneath, halfway, slapping, glass, seams, breathing, crisp