Walking down the sands to investigate
what they might find, shells or stones, flotsam
pieces abandoned by tides, two figures

walking, slowly walking, beyond my sight.
One small, one smaller, a boy and his mum
in jeans and tops, an everyday disguise

that makes them look quite like everyone else
scattered about here between the sea
and the dunes. I watch his white T shirt for
the longest time, tracking his progress down

an indefinite edge stretching for miles.
And then only the sun, and wind, and me
watching other tops and jeans on the shore,
waiting until the ones I love return

bringing their unique pebbles, wood and shells,
unique like us, or like everyone else.

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