To be a flower
On a cliff
On a sunny day.

To the right,
The Coastline wriggles away;
First green,
Then blue,
Then grey.

Grey for Childhood,
With the odd megalith
Standing on a clear day;
But indistinct now.

Blue but too near to be forgotten.

Green where I am:
Where the sun and the dandelions shine;
Where the fresh breeze exhilarates and urges.
But too quickly
The gaze is drawn left.

Here the sky is grey - seriously grey -
And a cliff is in the way.

I cannot walk it
But on either side.
This is the Borderline that is so hard to find.