Tuesday, 26 June 2012


Sitting on the sullen Morecombe sea-front
Pondering on the loss of lives
On that beautiful horizon
Pale blue hills gaze silently back.
We watch the tide
Slide away
Revealing the sand banks
That human greed
Cruelly took away
The misery of their hope
That dark night.
Then, turning away
We explore the derelict halls
Of the Winter Gardens
And wonder at its beauty
Long ago neglected
Now - piece by little piece
Being brought back to life
By human perseverance.
We place a coin in the begging bowl
Smile at the monument of Eric
Make our way back
Past seaside shops
Now selling wheelchairs
For the ancient visitors -
One-time mill workers
And miners
Who keep their annual pilgrimage there.

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