I picked a pebble from the beach,
Meaning to throw it into the crashing waves,
But held it back as feeling comfortable in my grasp
And it’s grey pattern having caught my eye.
I held it back in the excitement of the advancing tide
The scrunch of sand and stones beneath my feet
The seagulls loud and raucous call
The salt water’s white spume flying to the breakers line.
I held that fascinating pebble as a momento of that wild day
The busy sounds, the delightful sights, the fish and chips smell of the Suffolk seaside.
Better than sweet rock with the name of the resort running through its middle
I had a heart impressed on that dark pebble
A treasure for my memory of a fine day beside the sea.