Thursday 1st February

.

Bitterly cold, windswept waves

An icy blast, with flying sand

Remembering you’d walk along

Pink of face and cold of hand

.

An afternoon perambulation

Coat done up, hood pulled down

Simply minding your own business

Wandering along streets of the town

.

Sometimes venturing on the beach

Striding in your best leather shoes

Soon covered in a salty residue

Our reprimands would amuse

.

I think of you, looking out to sea

Imagining those days gone past

When life was so undemanding

And wishing those times did last

.

My darling Angel son

xxxxxx