the sky is the palest grey

kissing a sea that is more the colour of water than of sea,

clear light-grey-blue-white

carrying ripples of peace to us landers,

gifting us with the secrets which the sky

whispers as they kiss.

people walk in dyads and triads, or with dogs or toddlers or larger family groups,

starting their new year with one another and the sea air

blowing freshness into their hopes for the three hundred and sixty six days to come –

if we see them all…

how many will surely pass us without recall.

Not I.

I claim every day

I breathe I feel I think I listen –

to waves to chatter to my breath to music to TfL announcements

I will live.

I will. be. here.