Poem ‘A trip to the seaside’

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The car bumpered coach pour passengers along the prom.

Hotels expand while trippers and toddlers shelve the shingled beach to the lower fore-shore sand, squealing like seagulls, rushing channelled waters of the sea.

Look, the white Pavilion’s like the deck of a ship a Modernist marvel where Gormley, Grayson and a mini spectacular centre staged.

Jets of water surprise giggling kids, while cyclists and strollers stop, as the Sovereign Light café serve hungry bites.

Taste the ice-cream melting this summer’s day.

As the sea recedes, teens chase waves, parents and toddlers explore our cretaceous shore, where dinosaurs promenaded and sharks shed teeth, now museumed where Eddie Izzard cut the ribbon, in the birthplace of British motor racing a quality coast award recipient.

When the sun stains the sea, trippers trot back to coaches along the two mile prom and hotels serve tea, while we continue to live in our Bexhill-on-Sea.

Alison Cook

First Avenue

Bexhill

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