A grassy path led away from the house
bordered by a rushing stream
which carved a knife edged shallow channel
straight into the sea.
It was surprisingly hard to cross and icy cold if you slipped.
My best beach-combing find, found -
and left behind for once,
however beautiful the stone, shell or sea-washed glass in situ,
I've come to recognise that a slightly melancholy transformation is wrought over time
as it gathers dust in a bowl, on a shelf,
or on a window sill back home.
And perhaps I'm old enough to resist the lure of the tangible memento now.