Behind a moat of bleached hay A ladder leads to wisps and loft-dust. In the corner, one coke bottle – shared; A single sandal – where is the other? Across the back wall in chalk, Now smudged, unclear, Your funny fond words for me alone. Through the slats I view the yard, The gates, the field, the sea beyond And, stretching out my fingers, I can touch the broken waves Where we swam. Ah there you are, And I will wait. You know where I am.