The Journey to St Michaels Mount
So there we were,
Keiran and I,
standing on the beach
in suits and ties.
Full of bonhomie and
smiling good cheer,
helped not a little
by lashings of beer.
Keiran said hey!
Let's cross to that island,
the tides going out
and its sure to be dry land.
As the older cousin
with his first grey hair
I thought I'd be the voice
of reason and care.
"We've come from the wedding
of our mate Dave
now's not the time to go
wading in waves."
But Keiran replied with unshakable logic
"It'll be fun."
"Okay" I said "Let's go."
We started along the
cobbled causeway
into darkness filled with
crashing waves.
Keiran was leading
as is his way
and I followed behind,
the man with the grey.
We got along fine
until halfway across
when I heard a great shout
and an almighty splosh.
Feeling all smug with
my shoes round my neck,
I said "Feeling wet Keiran?"
Keiran said "yes."
"But it won't get any deeper"
he said with a cry,
"the tides going out and
it'll soon will be dry"
I was skeptical as befits
the grown up one,
but the moment had caught me
and I cried "On! On!"
Soon it was up to our knees.
There was sea to the left of us
sea to the right,
ahead of us darkness
behind, the town lights.
So we finally made it
to St Michaels Mount
and we ran and we capered
and we frolicked about.
And as we walked back
through ankle deep sea,
our trousers as wet
and as soaking can be.
I said "Keiran, you know
you were right,
the tide is going out."
And Keiran said
"I told you it was"
...........................