When I was young I walked this path, raincoat and wellies, grey stormy waves soaking us at high tide.
When I grew up I walked this path, a dog lead in each hand and a bright pink kite under one arm.
Recently I walked this path, a tiny hand in mine this time, with sandy spades and buckets.
Yesterday I walked this path, on my own. Wind in my hair, pebbles in my pocket, salt on my face.
Time marches onwards. Lives grow, flourish and fade. The sea is always there, always different, at the end of the way.