On the day the first snow flake fell

along a muddied jigsaw shore


slim boats lined with black blushed tail

on smeared grit and brown labyrinth floor.


A path of tobacco crosses in oak

matted with dead feather and yellow moss,


on water were lost epiphanies float

above the slewed ringlets of frost.


Paintings held in the small palm of dead sand

oblong canvas in pristine red and navy glow,


vinegar trails in a child's frosty hand

like lines of wax embalmed in cemented snow.


The grass verge a train track rustic and twinned

a balaclava chip fryer shivers,


an empty arcade with damp neon wings,

derelict band-stand in flakes of taped leather.


A distant pier with green shining railings

like a charred black orchid cast out at sea,


a vast cloudless red sky sailing

in dark colours that hear an ocean stop to breathe.  















































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