Lost Boyhood

The Turf stack stood beyond the midden by the byre

The last track that led to the Rock Heads

To the straw-bed sheep shed snug in the worst of Winter

To the muddied gate cracked-dry surface in Summer

To the last outpost of boyhood

Sister by the stack, younger twin too

The last outpost before the burn surfaced again

Dancing and draining towards the edge

Skipping and skimming, boys boats built

Of blades of grass, of sticks, of leaf

Of sweetie wrapper, chasing, racing

Dipping, diving lost to the surface

Before the roar of the edge

But still they swept the Rock Heads

Drunk and dying and plunging to the beach

The bottom and beyond the cold Atlantic waters

And I knew now I could not turn

Back the tide of time