lips like cherry blossom
with a beachcomber smile
her weather-worn hands
scratched and scraped
through seaweed and shingle
for a few cobbles of coal
when her back could bend no more
the Solway Firth sang her home
a morning’s graft exchanged
for an hour in the warmth
Warm and beautiful description, Davy. 🙂
Thank you, Terveen. I am glad you enjoyed the poem.