Quite how it was I came to be
left standing there, unmet,
is – with parents – buried now.
Whether school trip, footie match
or mis-timed party date,
I can only speculate.
Maybe they were detained
somehow. I didn’t know.
Either I had no coins
or Button ‘B’ would not return them.
Daylight drained from the blank stare
of ticket office windows.
Our branch line had closed
more than a year before,
but lacking patience to sit tight
in the gloom-filled forecourt,
I knew its tracks would bring me home
if I followed their line.
Taking parallel roads,
my spindly legs set off, good pace
into the rising gale.
Wet faced with rain,
wind ripping at loose coat toggles.
By the time I reached the sea
it is an over-howl:
the high whistle of shrouds and stays,
halyards rattling against masts
so loud I barely hear
passing traffic. Even on the bridge
where the pavement narrows.
Close to the edge
I could taste the brine of full tide,
spindrift waves churning below.
Easy for a boy to slip through
between railings –
a deep plunge into doubt.
Drawing breath on the other side,
puddles consolidate –
quicker to jump than walk around.
Some distance yet
to find my sense of direction,
how way leads on to way.
Or – in the nowhere zone
of a moonless roundabout – might not.
Sudden headlights splash its signpost.
A car pulls up, door opening.
I recognise my father’s brow,
creased with sharp relief.
ii. 2022
