Not for us the delights of Venice
A tan on the Med or being seen on the piste,
Our holiday was passed down to us by elders
Who religiously planned for two weeks of heaven at least
When the whole street decended
Like so many aliens
Who on reaching the earth's atmosphere
Forgot they were supposed to **** and pillage
And just went plain silly,
In caravans and huge tents you said
A congregation of days running together
Whose shimmering horizons, like great moats
Protected, edified, were ready to sweep away
Invading thoughts of ever returning to that hum drum existence
Of that make believe life forever ended.

Sadly we never achieved such heights
Ours were snatched days, hastily arranged nights
When we gambled on the weather
Opted for more familiar sights,
And there it is, just as you had left it
The sandcastle with tiny flagged turrets
And shells, handpicked, embroidered
On to walls packed tight
Enough to repel the advancing tide
The merciless frothy blackness, creeping all night
Over our lost childhood and innocence.

Even those stolen moments are not on offer any more
Leaving me hundreds of miles from shore
With the bucket and ***** you both forgot
And plenty of time to reflect
On what could have been
But if I ***** up my eyes really tightly
I can just make out two small figures
Playing like children
On the beach
In the sun.