she said that she had always used to feel like it was the
water which divided
the mainland from the island
that made the distance
feel so
vast.
lots of
old men
in tweed blazers
with beautiful
almost french
sounding
accents would
laugh and say-
ah, mais quelle mainland,
my love?
from time to time she would say
that she would give
all of the 50 pence
pieces
on
that
island
just to understand
how the sea
worked,
thousands of
grosnez
castles-
in ruins;
scattered
amid the
sandy
shores.
her thoughts
turned
hauntingly dark
in her
summers
there;
she grieved for
44
-lost
all for
unyet
ripened
tomatoes
to be
sent
across
the waves.
and then
she would
awaken to
that age-old
sound,
an animal
awaiting milking
and she would
wonder
what it felt like
when
Vikings
sailed the high seas;
to this
little
island.
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