Breakfast at Shoreham
I drank in the mist
Of early morning dew,
Hours crawled like minutes
Grey sky once so blue.
Woke up this morn
Ready for life’s thrill,
Began with hot coffee
An every day’s drill.
For breakfast went we
To George’s Stakehouse Inn,
Libby, sister, husband and me
Ignoring choice of fish at the Finn.
Opted for a typical English plate
Warm at Stonhouse fireside,
Though it was past eight
Raindrops whispered a ride.
Saw the white cliffs of Sussex
Along the South Downs,
Like Vera Lynn’s lyrics
That spoke of old town.
Left for joys of Brighton’s pier
Crowds of heads at every pub,
Drinking wine and hops for great cheer
Till evening sun dips to dine and sup.
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