A peaceful evening opened up to the Welsh skies
Adorned to regal majesty by the winsome sun.
Alongside the southern creek, a bored fisherman deemed it wise
To dump his forlorn trawler and have some fun.
Yonder across the hill lived a pretty Cornish lassie
Picking cherries for the night's dessert delight
She looked over the hedge as she caught his coo
"How 'bout a walk along the shore tonight!"
She traipsed to the chalet, the basket forgotten
Wearing a wry smile, mind lost to logic beyond the distant mast
The universe would expand, meteors would shoot past
Yet, our woman would chase fantasy with the air of one smitten.
The breeze swept their faces, its wafts tender as a child
The sea engulfed their footprints, bathing the rocks wild
She whispered to him, "What shall your riposte be,
If that son-of-a-gun brother of mine were to spot us beside the sea?"
He returned her gaze, a grin surrounding his countenance
Gazing up at the sky, resting his back against a boulder
Before looking back at her, eyes twinkling through his glance
"I don't know, maybe I'd slip an arm around your shoulder?"
As he spoke a silver steamer strolled into sight
"Aye laddies, that's a rich haul!", a voice yelled
The woman at the shore quivered, turned her head in reflex
"That's him!", she said. Murphy's laws had yet again been upheld.
The fisherman scampered away into the windy night
Leaving the lass to play reception to the homecoming
The brother beamed. "You're here to see the herrings, aren't you!"
She let out a tremulous smile, only to see another liner returning.
The fisherman alighted from the soppy deck,
Waded across to the jetty and pulled up his torso
'That's a fine catch you've got there, Mac", he said
Turning to the woman, he remarked, " 'Ve we met before?"
