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Blakeney Point

A Poem by:

David Coe

Colourful Bar

Copyright shall at all times remain vested in the Author. No part of the work shall be used, reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the Author's express written consent.


walking, the crispness of winter grass,

from Blakeney to The Point,

talking of dreams that would pass the day,

and running to catch the sea,

where lions play,

the day you saw footprints in the snow,

and delighted in their form,

the way your breath courted the winter mist,

and kissed to catch the dew,

standing motionless, waiting for a sound.


We would walk miles to be alone,

and then back to Blakeney,

to eat and talk about things we had seen,

thinking this would never end.

It was so good,

when we walked the winter grass.


David Coe
Copyright ©2002

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