We argue all night, until I ask you to leave.
The next day we walk along the promenade.
I want to view the sea between trees, but
you pull me back, showing me wild jasmine.
We find a bench on the dune.
Below us, a family; a woman
smears sun-cream onto her mate’s face.
A brother and sister build a sandcastle.
You want this for us, you’ve said.
I know I must relinquish the search for a father,
I have lost him and survived,
but still the longing, an ache in the throat.
The sun glares from an aquamarine sky
and waves barrage the beach.
I watch the small girl wrap her legs
around her father’s waist, a limpet, not letting go.
