One Season

There is a place,
somewhere,
to the
north of here.
Common law marriage,
perched on a cliff,
one season,
cohabiting
by the sea.
Sometimes,
we would drive into the country,
to laze on high rocks,
the Bridestones.
These,
momentary lapses,
a twenty something,
escapement.
Simplicities,
before we knew better.

And if you,
are ever,
there too,
sit in rear seat and
listen as
we drive,
home to the coast.
Laying out a rug,
drinking coffee,
a view beyond the cliffs,
to a future horizon.
Happy memories
or the
duplicity of distance?
And yet still
I go there,
a place,
to the north of here.