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.