Pictures of Margate, thoughts of you,
Two things inside my head,
A seaside town, a love so true
That’s gone but never dead.
The last two weeks I spent alone
Down on the Thanet coast,
Two hundred miles and more from home,
Now you are just a ghost.
That night in Bradford, clowning
In the central cinema,
In Halifax, feigned drowning
At the local swimming baths.
The girls in flip-flops on the beach,
Bikinis scant and thin,
The warm sea just within my reach,
But I declined to swim.
Making love at your Auntie’s house
Thinking her sound asleep,
Creeping back softly as a mouse,
A secret three will keep.
Kebab and coke most every night,
And gambling in the day,
One big win, put myself to right,
A dream so far away.
Saying “I love you,” fifty times,
And fifty times again,
And writing you those simple lines,
And calling out your name.
A seaside town, a love so true,
Both miles and years behind,
Pictures of Margate, thoughts of you,
Forever on my mind.
Back To Poetry Index