As if I had a video in my brain,
some days we spent come sharply back.
On a beach not far from Cork, still kids,
we played at being Bedouins
on grass-topped dunes,
with beach-towels round our heads
and hurly sticks as guns.
An inlet split the beach in two.
To get back to the car
we had to wade a swelling tide.
Who carried me to safety? Was it you?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Lovely tribute to memories...thanks for sharing them....