On our walk up the beach

With a windy sun behind us

We fingered our names - half back-to-front

In the sand,

And left them to the seagulls

Guarding the water's edge

In squadrons ready for take-off

Into the wind.

But they had flown with the ebb-tide,

And were gone when we returned,

Tramping fresh footprints

On the rippled lines of the beach.

We looked for our names,

But they had vanished -

Lost forever in the silvery glint

Of a sandy shore.

A walk along Fish Hoek Beach with Catherine

July 1974