My Poetry: South Gare

South Gare  

She looked at the man

Summed him up:

On his own,

Sunday afternoon,

Three kids...

He smiled, she smiled

Called her children from the water's edge

So he would know -

From the beginning.

His girls hauled him up.

She studied them,

Younger than her own,

She could grow to love them.

He looked again, smiled again.

They would say she was mad

Taking on his kids -

So soon.

She kept her bare left hand in view.

Could he see the thin white line

That stood between then and now?

She hugged her children,

He smiled,

Gathered-up her future in a blue-cotton

Beach towel. And left.

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Denise Howie