The dog and I walk a solitary beach,
no one about except seagulls which
find my presence intrusive.

Soon the beach will be covered in
a blanket of bodies both beautiful
and obscene.

She died several months ago, loved
our long walks, pre-tourist seasons,
now she is in my thoughts.

I’ve tried to leave her at home, but she
insist upon coming along and, anyway
I feel lost and lonely without her.

“Get another dog,” my wife says. Why?
When my Mother died no one said:
“Go get another one.”

The whole family is here, except my
Wife she hates sand and fears seagulls
After seeing the movie “Birds.”

My dog barks wants to walk on,
I’ve been standing here looking at
the sea seeing nothing but dreams.