Birds flick on currents of breeze.
Lifted sun ways.
Sea water, as always ebbs and flows.
Onto the sand.
Its hand in hand with bladder wrack.
Deposits made.
Smell the smile.
Just for a while.
After walking down the mile of gold.
Find the promenade.
The tourists all gone.
Home to the city streets.
Praise be the perfection of these perfect seconds.
Sadly all gone.
No thieving gulls to disturb the peace.
The silence, evening time comes round.
The seashore sleeps, safe haven found.
(c)Livvi