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