by Emma L Mavin
Sunday, October 06, 2002
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Skies of the darkest blue,
Accentuated by bright neon.
Behind is light, bustle,
Rich smells and noise.
The glorious sound of the sea at night
White ridges highlighted
And the smell of salt surrounding.
A place of contrasts
Of tacky life-exciting fairground nights,
And the vast ocean always twined in thought.
There is no place like it,
Compared to this, all else is bland,
Free from cold air and the tang of the sea.
I will go back
Back to wild sea and cold stars
And superficial ectasy,
For the coast holds my soul.
It is home.