The Seagulls' Cries

A woman looked out of the window thinking
that she'd heard a terrible scream,
peered up at the wheeling, gull-filled skies,
said to herself, I must not daydream,
it was just the birds' piercing cries.
Head on one side she stood there blinking.

A man was out walking along the beach
he could see the huts just ahead,
suddenly he clutched his head in pain
thought migraine, I must go home to bed.
So he turned and walked back again.
The hut so near, so far, remained out of reach.

A boy, about five, was naked and terrified,
he lay curled on the beach hut floor,
his nostrils filled with the stench of wet wood;
he tried hard to scream out some more.
Voice guttered on bitter brine, no longer could.
Dark streaks showed where his tears had dried

The choking oily rag loosened from his face.
They'd tied it tight and forced it in as a gag.
It had hurt his tongue, and cut into his lip
but had finally slipped when he began to sag
against the rough edge of a large stone chip.
Instinctively knew he had to escape this place.

Daddy will come and save me soon, he thought
wishing with all his heart that he was here,
the boy sobbed out a comforting nursery tune,
Daddy as usual was out pubbing, drinking beer.
The boy might just as well ask for the moon.
Never talk to strangers, Mummy had once taught.

Mummy, I wish you had not left and gone away,
I'd never have wandered that far from home.
His mother's grave did not answer her lost child
or not heard over the roar of white-flecked foam.
The weather was changing, turning quite wild
fading light bringing early end to gloomy day.

The woman looked out at the gathering sky,
felt anxious, worried she'd still listened out.
Watched the deserted, windswept beach
Unaware she'd not answered a desperate shout
Now safe in God's arms, out of harm's reach
cruelly abandoned by paedophiles, left to die!