That’s where I’ll​ find you


Saturday 4th November


Silently treading

Through the depths

Of my unconsciousness


Weightlessly floating

In the blue swell

Of countless oceans


Lost on the winds

Blowing imperceptibly 

Across grassy meadows


Gently encompassed

Within a silken cocoon

Of mellifluous dreams


That’s where I’ll​ find you

My sweet Angel

My darling boy



Beautiful rainbow across Porthmeor Beach

A wintry looking sea

Blustery winds, scudding clouds and a little bright sunshine

Young swans in the harbour


They had probably flown across the bay from the estuary at Hayle

A ‘Jumbo’ sailing in the late afternoon sun

A replica, nineteenth century, fishing lugger

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