Grand Old Lady of the Sea

at night you wear your widow’s weeds,

mourning your glory days,                                                                                                    

paddle steamers brought day trippers,

to marvel at your splendour,

a feat of Victorian engineering,

a warning beacon flashes,

enticing, beckoning,

come to me, come to me…  

as day dawns, casting off your lacy shroud,

you sit in the morning sun,

daydreaming of days long past,

twirling on the dance floor,

ice cream on the decking,

you shone like a jewel,

enticing, beckoning,

come to me, come to me…

you did your bit for the war effort,

as the country mourned its dead,

the Grand Pavilion became,

a camouflage netting factory, 

in 1963 the sea froze around you,

glistening in the winter sun,

enticing, beckoning,

come to me, come to me...

you sit out there now, proud,

resplendent in the morning sun,

head held high, loved by all,

grand old lady of the sea,

at tide low, across the mud flats,

a whisper on the breeze,

enticing, beckoning,

come to me, come to me…

flotsamweave © 2018