Memories - an original poem

As the waves crash onto the shore I have nothing to say,
the precedent of my language becomes insubstantial,
untrustworthy in the misty light of history.

The haze in the west out over the wide ocean,
no shade close to the waves, although the air is fresh,
the memories of my fathers of the times before:

There is a gathering gloom on the sky to the south
and a rumble of traffic behind me on the road,
people moving up and down, from here to there.

Writing in this place is not easy, I am not at ease
with the thump of the shifting mountains of water,
the strange darkness to my left, and the heat of the day.

As the sun dips into the haze and the air cools,
I feel the bite of one midge on my wrist, remember
evenings in Scotland on the Isles when life was simple.

I put away my pen and try to sit in peace again,
but these few vague words have fired some rage within
and I return to the uncomfortable streets.

Thank you for reading.