THE sun sets over the Somerset Hills

Making them appear as if on fire

As a tanker drifts across the channel

Under a postcard-blue winter sky.

But storms are not far away and waves

Explode against Nell’s and Friar’s Point.

Excited dogs run free on Whitmore Bay

As the sunset sky turns back into grey

And the pirate’s flag flutters furiously.

O’Shea’s and Mario’s cafes are closing,

Just an elderly couple sit outside now

As the bright azure sky fades,

Sinister darkness soon to descend

Leaving only ghosts to stroll on the vast sand

And as the wind becomes ever more raw

I listen to the silver ocean roar.

Guy Fletcher

Pantmawr

Cardiff