Holidaying

A week of undiluted summer views
in an apartment uncluttered by past use.

Tattoos stretch out next to oiled sand;
body boards dart and yap on their leashes.

Bunting chatters brightly in the streets,
dusk surf promises a good head of lager.

Slowly, lights create their night braille –
town bars splashed with restless laughter.

Later, the wind whips away stray words,
while the moon holds a thousand secrets

tight to its chest – witnessed but never spilt.
Waking each morning in unfamiliarity,

messages scratched on the shoreline
where a dark sea danced at lovers’ feet.

The tide wipes them without reading,
...