granite cliffs stand proud against the tough coastal weather
the sea speaks in a pirate tongue
salt on the windows, tar in the ropes,
treasure washed up from shipwrecks
we drove down narrow lanes searching for Cornish pasties
a hot savory pie that locals call tiddy oggy
down near the harbor we bought a bag full to picnic up on the cliffs
as we broke open the crusty pastry,
steam escaped into the clifftop air
calling the gulls to circle like rampant thieves
the afternoon quest was to seek out cream teas with jam red as a sunset over St Ives
thick cream folded like sea foam on a beach at low tide
with our bellies full it was time to tell stories of pirates and Cornish heroes
Cornwall moves slowly
except for the wind
and stories of treasures
that never stay buried
the best way to experience Cornwall is to taste it
Cheeky Monkey Poetry 