Untitled

Work in progress.

The salt winds, the arcades

The smell of old copper coins and popcorn

The chimes, the bells, the whistles

The rusting telescopes pointed at the opposite shore

The dripping point and the lighthouse

The hoods of children’s cagoules

Whipping in the coastally winds

Red cheeks and flitting hands. 

Reviews

[Poeticadia]

A wonderfully poetic description of an out-of-season seaside resort... it feels like it has been neglected for a few years and left to the faithful few local visitors.

[hardluckbaby]

Good start here, can't wait to read the rest of it.