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Home from Home
by Vivien Steels
When we left home it was so dawn-early
birds hadn’t finished dressing.
Our car was grey–
grey like sheet metal shaking thunder
across Melbury Hill’s feet.
Our wet luggage was squashed into tiny boot.
Every road, which wound before us,
would bring the sea to me.
Are we there yet?
Mountains curtained the trail
with greenness and flocks of gulls,
rocks looming large with granite faces,
imparting stormy messages from waves.
The horizon was blue sipping green.
Is that the sea?
The way twisted into yellow
like a strip of iridescent beach
glinting with sunlit shells,
each one spelling ‘seaside’.
The first one to see the sea gets sixpence!
I wanted to leave all clothes behind,
put on my blue costume,
festooned with fish,
and let the sea be my home.