Waves lapping onto clean sands
Take in Oscar Wilde's The Soul of Man
Waves lapping in clasped hands
Take in the square upright back
Of the dirty plastic rattan chair
And the call of the gull
The staring eye the invasive glare
Take in the yacht moored just offshore
Bobbing up and down to the tune of the sea
Take in the steady stroll of the holidaymakers
As they step along the waters edge simply to be
Take in the racket not the racquet
Of the boom-bass up and down in and out fitness fanatics
Bouncing to the scream of the over enthusiastic instructor
Who seems to have forgotten just how early in the day it is
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