Jimmy
This is where we used to walk
On the beach
I collect driftwood
All different shapes and sizes
Jimmy would fetch the small pieces
I smash them against the rock
I pick up some pumice stone
It’s light and scrunchy, like a macaroon
Jimmy was so heavy
Especially when he got wet
I scrunch the pumice stone
It crumbles to dust
I see a rat
It scuttles behind a rock, sinister and sneaky
Jimmy chased rats and barked at them
I touch and tickle the sand with my toes
There are millions of grains – too many to count
Jimmy liked to dig in the sand
I sort some shells
No-one’s living in them now
They’re empty and quiet
Like my place
Coloured glass glitters
Smoothed by the sea water
Mum calls it treasure
She says Jimmy was a treasure
Near the waves seaweed settles
Someone told me you can eat it
Jimmy used to chew it and spit it out
That made me laugh
I discover a dead seagull
Was it old when it died?
I bet Jimmy would roll on it
And come home smelly
A plastic bag floats in front of me
It shouldn’t be here
But I wish Jimmy was
I watch an old man and his dog
Looking out at the blueness
His dog barks at the seagulls
Just like Jimmy
I grin, remembering.
I think I spy sea monsters hiding in the waves
But I am alone.
Or am I?
I’m sure Jimmy’s watching me.
Pat Simmons
