Deserted Beach
by Sharmagne Leland-St. John

Wattle fence
in March's
sea breeze.

The quietude…

Not a gull in sight,
no ghosts of summer's
brightly coloured
no sandcastles,
or dogs yipping,
no Frisbees,
no debris.

No vendors
hawking trinkets,
kikoys and sloganed
beach towels
to tourists
who just want
to relax
and be left alone.

No scent of
Bain de Soleil
floating on the air.

No footprints
along the shoreline.

Unpeopled and still.

The solitude reminds me
of what a beach
in heaven must be like.

Pristine and peaceful
a space all to myself
where I can watch
the wisps of clouds
navigate the winter sky.


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