the post-war promenade
note them sleeping
discrete in their repose
on the promenade benches
in their very best clothes
their polished shoes
sun red faces
taking a snooze
in their belts and braces
under a summer sky blue
flowers in borders
and grass cropped tight
how do you do
do you think it might rain tomorrow
but today seems alright
turning the other cheek now
for the sun’s over the yardarm
and you know how
a dream comes tasty
of high teas and pastries
and jam scones full of cream
but let’s not be too hasty
for soon …
ahh well ahh well
i guess its time to go
as one by one
they up and left
the slow dusk to me
bereft by the sea
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