Salt Cottage

The Salt Cottage

On the banks of Pawleys Island

Peeling paisley wallpaper

A worn rug at the front door

Always there to welcome,

Sand worn feet

A beauty of it’s own class

Popcorn ceilings above,

Splattered with sunlight

Then dancing with moonbeams

The heavy wooden door,

With the heart carved in the corner

A crippled tree in the front yard

From the storm of 1893

The taste of salt,

Has always lingered

And so will my memories

Of when I skipped in the soft grass,

Sat on the checkered blanket,

And tried to count the stars

This place, this house, this home,

Will always be a friend

 

Reviews

[James Harding]

very nice right lovley descriptions. Full of a lot of emotion :)

[Arthur Stewart]

excellent poem, really enjoyed it!

[Linear]

Such a place to hold
and the storm of 93 is oblivious to me
to count the stars and name each grain of sand, if only we had the time, a moving and emotive poem, thank you

[Lola Nation]

what a wonderful visit, thank you.