Playing on the Pier

From here you can see the donkeys
Braided the same as fifty years ago
When I was a lad and my family sat
Amongst the thousands on the sands
As I played

And I remember my dad with his trousers rolled up
And the knotted handkerchief for the sun was hot
As he made his way through the crowds
To buy a tray of tea and sticky buns
As I played

And I remember my mother sitting stiffly in the deckchair
So unused to such enforced relaxation
Knitting frantically throughout the day
The completed vests in a bundle at her feet
As I played

And I remember my sister dreamily looking out to see
Transfixed by growing dreams of being someone
And finding herself unable to join in the social chat
Setting herself apart and sulking in a pretty way
As I played

I remember my brother too old for buckets and spades
But wanting to be a part of it all
And will to scrabble in the sand and build bridges
And wait for the sea to erode and destroy
As I played

But most I remember being with my family
On the beach below me by the donkeys
And for a second I swore I could see all of us
In careless unity, immortal and transient
As I played

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