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Next week it's back to work and so today

May be the last I'll spend at the White Rock -

If only for this summer - and the bay

Is quiet now the tourists with their shock

Of caravans have shuffled back up north.

A pair of lycred cyclists gently cruise

The promenade, chancing pedestrian wrath.

As they drift towards the evening booze

And fish and chips down on Rock a' Nore.

But silence does not come till I am home

Away from booming voices by the shore

Which crash the moments I have hoped would come

            To secure the memories of these weeks

            Blessed by a touch of you along the beach.

Brian Hick September 2011

©copyright Sally Hick 16.10.23