Last summer, at the kind invitation of a friend, I found myself walking the path that leads from Dover to St Margaret’s and the Coastguard Pub and Restaurant. Large ships, almost at our feet, ran in and out of Dover Harbour. Our way led by a lighthouse passed fields of blue wild flowers and red poppies.
It was peaceful, the summer air was warm and sweet scented and I counted my blessings.
I thought how fortunate we are to be here, in this moment, when others who died nearby in the trenches of France saw these cliffs only in their dreams.
A poetic post, dear friend. I feel as though I was I, too, was there with you. X
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