Brushed-wet tarmac Tomcat

Coat,

Socks pulled up to the knee.

The sand went on for miles

Like pebble dash,

Ground to it’s golden *****

Decimals and

Packed tight between the

Bowed white legs of the cliffs,

Which stood with their feet

In the sea.

My Queen of Bracing Holidays,

Gemstone brooches, wet cafes.

Your face

Cut into coat of armour

Quarter colours,

Pink and white

And red and gold

Like a royal crest of sunburned summers.