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.