Build upon the Tide

Build upon the Tide

I took a walk in company, with memory and grace.

Along the earthen paths and our narrow childhood ways

Heart sore at the changes riven upon our old home place

Progress seems more a rearward march than a forward race


I passed the schoolhouse and abjure, lessons taught by rote

Where future leaders learned their lessons and the idle practiced sloth

I caught a whiff of chalk dust, heard echoes of remembered playground roar

See diffused in half forgotten images, Martin Kavanagh, shoot and score


And on I walk past new estates, houses built in faux Spanish style

In a place where houses once stood well apart, perhaps every half a mile

And yet for all the closeness of these new dwellings along the way

I see no sign of the closeness that was common in our home of yesterday


The Glasshouses and fields that we worked in, are sadly now all gone

And the football pitch where we once played looks abandoned and forlorn

The spirit of our old home is broken, the sense of place no more

I wander on in search of some remaining part, then I reach the shore


Here at last sweet Anna, a thing from memory that still remains

The beach sand looks no different and the rocks still look the same

And tho the water has ebbed and flowed a million times and more

To my eye it looks the same water as it did those many years before


This is the final bastion of long departed youth

Where my home is still unchanged and my memories are still truth

And I call on sea gods to preserve a place for my child’s heart to reside

And pray they never find a way to build upon the flowing tide


© Dave Kavanagh @

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