Solitude Grey. Brooding. Solitude. The sea, The sky. Her choice? On a slipway. Time to decide When to leave. A moment in time. Future on a pivot. Only one can go. Never again a pair? Now the solitary wave That approaches and breaks ‘Gainst the jutting slipway Is smashed and absorbed. Will her tough decision, Be like the wave And after it’s broken, Be absorbed sans reaction? What she fears As she waits On the slipway Is conflict. So she Stands in Grey Brooding Solitude.
Keith Beavon 15:vii:2008
Pat at Milnerton, Winter 1959