The Mermaid's Chair (Poetry)

It is the moulding of twin rock stacks
a slim seat worn smooth between
by waves sent running back and forth
over granite streaked with green

They say it is a mermaid’s chair
the sea carved long ago
with pebbles tumbling in the pull
of tidal undertow

Most experts think it’s natural
while others won’t agree
it is all down to erosion —
simply fashioned by the sea

There’s some believe the legend
of a monster smitten with
a siren of rare beauty
made the chair his wedding gift

Where she sat through storm and tempest
the monster lying at her feet
as fickle as the moody ocean
’til she fled that salt-lashed seat

For a thousand years the monster
waited by that empty chair
the kind of throne no one would sit on
because no other creature dare

The monster vanished into seamist
cloaking grey the coastal plain
before sun broke through and banished
every remnant that remained

Ever since the seat’s been vacant
echoes taunt the listening breeze
as cold waves and shingle wash it
wear it thinner by degrees

Those persistent rumours whisper
that on random moonlit nights
when the tide is tipped with silver
there are some who’ve glimpsed strange sights

They speak of something barely human
all scales and fins and dripping hair
and every time a drowning happens
less than a stone’s throw from that chair