Was it really you who ran windswept
And asked to wipe your face
That reeked of toffee-spread?

Your tiny feet swept gaily on
You blew a kiss and you were gone
To build your castles on the sand

It seems a century away— a century gone too soon,
Alas! the years so quickly blend
Into a yesterday’s morn

I watch the ever-changing sea
I hear the murmuring waves
They send a message back to me, to tell me not to stay

And ponder on a yesterday but live for things to come
For life itself holds much, too much
To linger in the shade

For in forgetting bitterness that corrodes
The heart and dries within
Is but the way to gain release from pent-up frustration

So I flick the pebbles out my way and search horizons new
They beckon me to go onwards and search for goals anew
In a morrow filled with promise.

Agnes O’Shaughnessy