Margate

Steel waves slap against the stones,
driftwood and discarded carrier bags
litter the shore, the memory sags
painfully, seeping from my bones.
Flashing lights have all but faded.
shouts linger and echo on the air
of my brother and I, a joyful pair.
The pebbles stare up at me, jaded.

I try to tell my son about this place
but his mind cannot accept what is
beautiful is just hiding its face.
Alone here on the would-be sand
my mind aches back for days of
bliss. It is now the waste land.