The Breeze Whispered Salty Promises

Getting there was half the fun, Whale Beach
on a Saturday and a Son's wedding - the Bride
a dream in bare feet on sand and a ceremony
to leave you gasping. I kissed Celebrant Deidre
before it began, an omen to vows as simple as
the sea, to love as love is meant to be.

We came dressed like suburban seaside
Bedouins, met in the sand and stood shoulder
to shoulder facing the sea. The best Versace
were words worn chic telling tales of our simple
sameness, an urbanity which neatly proclaimed
who we were and why we were here.

Even the tall Lanark men stood comfortably
in tartan, smiling in clothes beachgoers eyes
played games with - tho' as the Bride walked
through rose petals to give herself away the
sighs of the fledgling surf stole the beach and
the breeze whispered salty promises.
© 13 January 2008, I. D. Carswell