Seaside Gothic

Fiction | Poetry | Nonfiction

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Seasons Have Reshaped Me

Seasons Have Reshaped Me by Mervyn Seivwright

from a winter fifteen-years
past to this summer
returning to this pier, a stage
abreast the century-old hotel,
this setting of sanctuary, gaiety,
where I once drunken
my mind with sips
of the North Sea mesmerising
on these beach shores
of Scheveningen. My spirit
has transformed
as the pier’s physical self.
The pier and I have both
discarded decaying skin,
unhealthy partnerships.
Our drinks are now brighter,
sweeter, light enough
to study life’s simplicity.
I am a child at play
in a tulip field. I respite.
My young son making sand
angels with legs and arms
with blazing blue swimsuit,
vaults up with unknown
four-year-old girl in pink
swimsuit, arm floats
kicking up sand behind
bold seagulls opting not
to fly away. On the beach,
old belly men wearing speedos.
Young, sculptured men
in spandex. Both young
and old men’s eyes strutting
along the sand chasing
tall-tanned bikini girls
away. Boys kicking a football—
woman using sand
to brush away squealing seagulls.
We come here to be free
of thoughts, constraints
of our daily revolution
roping our steps,
seek Pinocchio’s dream,
life without strings. We come
to be vulnerable. Naked.
The North Sea’s waves
massaging my thoughts
into a calm while sun
blanket embraces me, waves
tap rhythmic patterns
against my legs; my eyes
clicking through memories
washing melancholy
history away.