The Ghost Of Summer

A leaded cloak that settled on the bay,

forewarned us of the chaos yet to rise

from deep within the boiling soup of grey.

The thunderheads that blocked our sunny day

and scattered tears of winter from their eyes –

made all the basting bathers go away.

The crystal spume of effervescent spray

that settled on us, causing such surprise,

turned all our sandcastles to muddy clay.

The deck chairs flapped and promised they would stay,

as buckets rattled out their sad goodbyes –

their gaudy faces etched with deep dismay.

The donkeys bowed their heads, began to bray,

their sadness seemed to resonate in sighs

that echoed after they had trooped away.

Beneath umbrellas, wrapped in disarray,

we made a vow amidst the seagull cries

to ‘bloody well enjoy this holiday’

and prayed a spectral sun to haunt the skies.