April 26, 2012

 

 

A million pebbles on the sea shore

Skimmed gently out to sea

By weekend revellers and nudists too

Only in Brighton can we be

 

No sign of sand anywhere

Just seagulls screeching with glee

Their voices hauntingly melancholy

Only in Brighton can we be

 

Thrashing waters, killer waves

At high tide we all flee

Back through ‘The Lanes’ to our Hotel

Only in Brighton can we be

 

A burnt out pier, needing restoration

No bucket and spade for the child at our knee

But we shall return, like years before, for

Only in Brighton can we be

 

 

 

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