Boardwalk Bijou

      

 

 

The morning bicyclers were not out yet

and dunes hid me, hungover, half asleep.

I knew she could not see me watching them

as they came to the boardwalk hand in hand,

a grandmother with a child about four.

 

Her gray hair blended with the gray of dawn

and took a hot rose frost from the red tinge

of first light bouncing off the purple clouds.

She sat the child formally on the bench

as though ushered into a theatre,

folding her hands in delicate white gloves,

her pocketbook carefully in her lap.

 

The new sun free above the horizon –

the bench now small against the grandeur of

a bonfire sky on molten metal waves –

a tear reflects like mirror on her cheek,

“I made the trip so you wouldn’t miss this”,

the girl yawns early blue eyes at our show.

I warm to an all-encompassing gold

and the maternal heat of a new day.

 

 

 

 

3 comments

  1. I get a feeling the little girl is not as impressed as she is supposed to be. On the other hand, I am quite impressed with your description of the dawn.

    Like

  2. Hi Craig

    I love the way you journey through this poem, witnessing the warmth of a woman with her grandchild and how the observation touches on your own humanity. You also create wonderful details with lines like these —

    the bench now small against the grandeur of

    a bonfire sky on molten metal waves –

    a tear reflects like mirror on her cheek,

    “I made the trip so you wouldn’t miss this”,

    the girl yawns early blue eyes at our show.

    I warm to an all-encompassing gold

    and the maternal heat of a new day.

    You allow us, the readers, to see the composition of landscape and people, how one defines the other and how they both blend into a painting of light, empathy and personal reflection.

    Really nicely expressed,
    My best
    Wendy

    Like

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