Farewell to the Western Shore

by Carolyn Lawrence | 2008

As the gray washes upon the western shore

I feel the foreign soil between my toes

how long have I wished to be here

-even momentarily-

wading by your shore

I collect the shells of your former self, pocket them

so that I can remember

so that I can be closer to you, than I am

now

Tarry little girl, carry me home

pocketed 'neath your fingertips, I would rather

than washed upon this shore

so far away from you, so far

from your touch

the sun shant shine like them eyes

that sparkle as you smile

and wrap me tighter

around your tiny finger, tarry

little girl

I want to be home

As the gray rolls into the firth, I settle

like the pebbles of ancient times

among the ruins and the runes

I find solace in the bleached sediment of the clyde

and see you out there, floating

hiding behind a shift of brume, clouding

me memory of you

There, you are lighter than Ayr

-a gleam across the Arran sky-

how far you traveled, how far

indeed, as I

aye, lass, how far indeed

now you must go

so I raise me pipes to your sky

and say farewell

to the lass who washed upon me

western shore

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