You cough and sneeze along the promenade
in tandem with the weather.
The sea you swam in just two weeks ago,
rumples her waves like a fractious child
She would swallow you up now in a gulp.
The sky, like your eyes, like your mood,
like the people nursing hot tea
on the front, drawn tight,
on the downward turn
in denial of warmth and the end of light.
No autumn leaves fall here,
just you sinking with another season.
Decades gone, too few to come,
the weather’s moods so well-known
you could recite them all by heart.
The sun throws a sudden party,
lighting the sea a lucid green.
Your mood lifts. Time passes
too soon, too fast for this sad vent.
You watch a teenage gull ride the wind.
Strands of hair stick to your smile.