Bridgit McBride/ Kinshaldy Beach

by Bruce Dick
(Fife Scotland)

Where are you now, my Bridgit McBride?
do you remember, summer mornings, when we used to go for a ride,
you on a horse and me on my bike,
Through the woods at Kinshaldy, we would ramble and hike,
till that fateful day in Bosnia, you didn't put your fingers in your ears,and I heard the explosion at Kinshaldy, and the sound reduced me to tears

I didn't realise, you were working undercover,
I though you were on holiday, with a girlfriend of my brother,
your dream of being a Flamenco dancer, ended on that day,
when a Russian made M32 anti personel mine,
blew your sturdy legs away.

No more to play hockey, or skate at Kirkcaldy Rink,
or reach up into cupboards, for cereal, or turn the tap off, in the kitchen sink
no more to stamp your feet, when you go in the huff,
or wear eight inch stilettos, while I watch you strut your stuff,
never again to wear summer crop pants, as we we stroll hand in hand, suffocated at Kinshaldy, face down in the sand.

You fell from the decking, of the little shack we built here,
to the beach, and the shoreline, we wanted to be near,
you fell face downwards, from your wheelchair, as you were waving out at me,but I didn't hear your muffled cries, over the sound,of wind and sea,
you were gone by the time I reached you, mouth and nostrils, filled with sand,I tried mouth to mouth,no response, then I sat, and held your hand.

The ambulance took an hour, through the teatime traffic it had to reach,myself, and my poor Bridgit, both down here on Kinshaldy beach,
they said, she was dead on arrival, and then they took my love away,they asked if I wanted to accompany her, but I said, that I must stay,
and I watched them, take away my Bridgit, and I saw them drive away.

In the evening still, I fired the shack, and I watched it roar, then fade to a glow,
once more I looked down at the imprints, of the two big boobs, and the face upon the sand,
I then turned, I just had to go, but I'll always remember, the time we spent there,
and the times I held your hand.

I never go there now, to the beach, I've never been back,
to the wind swept dunes, or shoreline, or the place, I built our shack,
I took plaster casts of the imprints, and I sleep with them each night,
and I dream, I'm cuddling Bridgit, and hold her oh! so tight.

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May 18, 2011
by: Anonymous

I really loved the vivid image of her imprint in the sand- the left over memories of her breasts and face... so lovely. wow.

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