WHITBY SOUVENIRS
In the early hours of morning
At the end of an August day.
I went down to take a farewell walk,
By the sands of Whitby Bay.
The summer sun still lingered there,
On the breath of the dreaming sea,
And the waves were turning, half awake,
As I walked along to the quay.
I went out along the West Pier,
And on past the harbour light,
The stars had never seemed quite so close,
Nor had ever burned so bright.
The moon curled low above the waves,
And the breeze, as if in play,
Made a million shards of moonlight dance,
With the shadows out on the bay.
In the darkness I stood gazing,
For how long I could not say,
‘til my truant mind returned with time,
And ushered me away.
Between the river and the sea,
I walked back towards the shore,
And I felt as close to Whitby then,
As the moss grows close to the moor.
In the early hours of morning
At the end of an August day.
I went down to take a farewell walk,
By the sands of Whitby bay.
And now, whatever time may pass,
Or wherever fortune steers,
That walk, the moon, the sea and stars,
Are my Whitby souvenirs.
©Geoff Lawes