Memories of a very pleasant wedding anniversary a few years ago and my very first ever proper poem:
The firedoor slams on the modern music,
The voices and the beer smells from the bar.
A sea-themed hotel room barely big enough
For the double bed by the unlit fire.
Uneven floors, sloping walls and low ceiling;
The new décor laid over shapes of the past.
We cautiously creak to the low wide window;
Lured by the light on an ocean of glass
We look at the ancient stone harbour wall
And listen to the ‘hush’ of the shifting sea
That pushes and sucks on the sloped pebble shore.
Tourists in flip-flops with ice cream and tea,
Pass under a stone arch over the cobbles
Where the loudest sound is not cars but seagulls.
(In ‘A Message from the Sea’ by Charles Dickens (1860), ‘Steepways’ is the name he gives to the village of Clovelly)