We used to sit on this bench

waiting for the sun to set

into the sea

like a big red boiled sweet.

 

It changed its shape,

looked like an onion or a pear

slipping so quickly underneath

the waves.

 

The sky stayed blue

so long -

we waited to spot a planet

appearing like the first note in a peal of bells.

The night sky was our dark symphony.

 

I remember one day

a woman came walking up the track,

told us that her son in law had died

in the cottage on the cliff.

 

“There’s a lot of sadness

in that house” she said, pointing.

I looked

but felt immune

little knowing…….

 

I sat on our bench this morning

hoping for a star.