Winter-by-the-Sea



Deserted, the beach,
except for a solitary seagull
squawking incredulously “Where are you?”
Searching, bobbing and weaving
in the desolate wind like a Jack-in-the-box,
It’s surprise spent, left to slowly die.

Empty, the promenade,
except for a lone cyclist
peddling frantically “Must get home.”
Pumping, pushing and fighting
against the driving rain like a mechanical toy
over wound, out of control.

Abandoned, the arcades,
except for a lone faithful disciple
oblivious, hypnotised “I will win!”
Dodging, swerving and diving
against the torrent from the Command Ship Thall
conqueror of all, devoid of mercy.

Grim, this place,
except for the garish illuminations
egotistic, screeching “Look at me!”
Deceiving, tricking and cheating
the receptive wave that washes over the town
every year, every generation, every summer.

Candy Floss, anyone?


©Lordspudz