Strawberries and Cream

Our clocks unwind the seconds, days, months of friendship years when heels 
hallmarked slender pavements, sundae cherry lips. Now, slate hair is burnished to silver.
Twilight: mirror blue sky arcs the horizon, a filigree of cream marshmallows 
to catch the sun. We left our cottage-nest, teapot, teal cushions, soft featherings 
for middle-aged bones. Wildflowers nod uncertainly, orange, violet, summer green.
I embroider Southwold into my mind’s eye, a High Street leading to Market Place, a 
carousel of bunting. Queen Street to Gun Hill, we process the promenade, sand tracing
confidences on the wind, beach-huts of strawberry and cream winking at the sun.


Our clocks unwind the seconds, days, months 
of friendship years when heels hallmarked slender 
pavements, sundae cherry lips. Now, slate hair 
is burnished to silver and a mirror blue sky 
arcs the horizon, filigree of cream marshmallows 
to catch the sun. We left our cottage-nest, teapot, 
teal cushions, soft featherings for middle-aged bones. 
Wildflowers nod uncertainly, orange, violet, 
summer green. I embroider Southwold into my 
mind’s eye, a High Street leading to Market Place, 
a carousel of bunting. Queen Street to Gun Hill, 
we process the promenade, sand tracing 
confidences on the wind, beach-huts of 
strawberry and cream winking at the sun.

S.Abdallah ©

Which version of this poem do you prefer? Prose poem or sonnet?