the bay

the party showing
no sign of slowing, shrieks
from the girls
rising like a wave, then
crash against,
a low murmur of men, unaware
that yards above,
open windows, quieter
far less social souls
beached, like whales
wondering when
the saviour of sleep
takes them,
into the calm pool
of a new day

If you’d like to find out a bit more about this poem, click the link to the page “Explained” which shines a light on the background to each poem, or helps you to understand what the heck’s going on if you’re a bit baffled!

By cyncoed

Old & Welsh

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