SWEET, SWEET MEMORIES

Sea sucks hard on gob-stopper pebbles,

rolling them round and round

so they rattle and click like sweets against teeth;

bubble gum excesses are trapped in bladderwrack;

boot lace liquorice masquerades as mermaids’ hair

where fish in silver wrappers swim.

In coves, sand is humbugged wet and dry,

candy-coated shells abound.

Sandstone, the seaside rock,

is eroded into nut clusters;

sand worm casts curl into walnut whips,

while birds’ footprints pattern beach

like continental chocolates.

Dead jelly fish ooze:

Turkish delight,

whose sugar has been licked clean by the sea;

stray floats litter shore with pan drops;

a life belt lies half-buried like an abandoned polo mint.

Matchmaker pier strides into the distance.

A closer look reveals barnacles crusting pilings

with sugar crystals.

Perhaps the pier is past its sell-by date?

Sweet, sweet memories.

And all because the lady loves...

The seaside.