The Seaside

I sit beside the seaside, I watch the waves roll in,

I think I’ll write a poem, but where will I begin?

I guess that that’s the first part of everything we do,

whether it ‘s a shopping list or an ode that’s new.

Now the seagulls are upon me looking for a feed

but I have nothing edible, just things to write and read.


About a foolhardy florilegium

Nullius addictus iurare in verba magistri, quo me cumque rapit tempestas, deferor hospes.
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