Entry - MAG Poetry Prize 2010

Holiday Caravan

by Anita Maccallum

You are the key to my holiday caravan
wrapped up in salty sea air, sun kissed;
decadent day of ice cream and sandcastles.

You solid, warm, firm in my hand, lead
me to a whole new way of life. A place
I want to stay; curled in a cave, here.

You are lost, macabre  moments;
quick panic pulses through my heart.
Pacing a windswept beach, nowhere to go.

I reach deep in my pocket look down
at my hand, you lying there, looking at me.
laughing at my insecurity, kissing my face.

Seaweed memories circling the air around
you, winter chill turns you cold, I’ll hold
you in my hand, ‘till we wrinkle with age.

Added: 30.04.2010

Judges' comments on this poem


A poem built on memories.