Martin Booth
The Beach at Trouville
apres Boudin
For them,
it’s a blue day
years before we took
blue sadly.
For so long,
the parasol has stood
open and,
in the blue day,
fading slowly.
Her blue dress
folds over the black rock :
her sister’s
grows damp on the sand.
The men wear fltt caps
and no-one appears to be smiling.
It’s a blue day
years before
blue wept.
The odd man out
on the left of the group
looks away
and ahead
toward a pencilled, blue horizon.
Page(s) 41-42
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