Being Me

in the mouth
Of Saunton sands
sea shells 
Crowd my feet

the ghost
of the
Sound
Of your
voice
takes me
back
to
a 
time
where
Tranquility 
was a
familiar
friend

An eagle
soars
in the distance
While  seagulls serve
As an obnoxious
Chorus
Polluting
The air
With their laughter

I know our time
Is now
Just an afterthought 
However just
Know
often during
A cool English morn
I still
Hear your voice
And it Is
a reminder
Of when
It was
Okay
Just
Being Me.....