The skyline of a warm embrace,
That’s reaching out to say,
Take shelter with me here.
While a rock-face, like a passing whale,
Is rising, boldly, from the waves,
As I walk out on the pier.
In Saltburn, Sealt-burna.
Behind me, with an ageless grace,
The funicular still climbs
To views that never tire.
Defying gravity and time,
Like mothers selflessly inclined
To lift young spirits higher.
I see my childhood tracks retraced,
As the little train departs,
Down to the salty stream.
From Cat Nab, where the journey starts,
To Forest Halt, with racing hearts,
Then back through swirls of steam.
And there, The Ship, has found its place,
Anchored, safely, in the bay,
Where smugglers traded rum.
The north wind takes my breath away,
So, as the gulls amid the spray,
It’s forever where I’ll come.
To Saltburn, Sealt-burna.
(I was born in Saltburn, on the North East coast, and love to go back whenever I get the chance. I love it’s beauty, tranquility and history. My mum used to take me and my brothers there on the bus from the council estate where we lived, so we could get some fresh air. I feel at peace there. The Vikings named it Sealt-burna, meaning Salty Stream)