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The Search

Searching all alone

Along the shingle beach

For a perfect egg-shaped stone


I turn pebbles, like a dog a bone,

Below the high tide’s reach—

Searching all alone.


One Easter, ordering on the phone,

Mother sent me new-laid eggs. Each

Seemed a perfect egg-shaped stone


Until its sugar cracked. I should have known!

Was Mother saying, that will teach

You, searching all alone?


I dug up a potato the red of a roan,

A perfect heart shape, plump as a peach,

When all I want is a perfect egg-shaped stone.


I was never one to moan,

Instead I’ll study Nietzsche,

Searching all alone

For a perfect egg-shaped stone.

First published in Eds. Peter George & Brenda Squires. PENfro Poets 2013. Menter Rhosygilwen, 2013.

The late Ann Byrne-Sutton was born in Glastonbury and studied medicine in Bristol. She and her husband, both keen mountaineers, moved to Geneva in 1961. In 1988 she sailed the Atlantic both ways in a ten-metre yacht, as a crew to a woman climbing friend. She settled in Pembrokeshire, completed an MA in writing at Glamorgan University, published High June (2002) and Come Back to Avalon (2011). She was a founder member of PENfro Poets.