Southwold I Love You

Southwold (Suffolk). Dear Southwold How I love to visit you, To stand barefoot, On your bright yellow sandy beaches, To stand and admire your pretty streets, Your glowing white Lighthouse, and your quirky Pier. Your cottage homes Framed like calendar pictures, Decorated with, Striking lavender gardens, Gardens that smell, Like a small piece of heaven. Your Front room windows, That draw in, Visiting Strangers eyes, Eyes that long to glimpse into someone else’s World. But Southwold, There is something missing now. Like a silent person, Whom has lost their song, Your homely cottages, and Victorian shop fronts, Now just a Theaters stage, For the rich, and their Summer homes. For when Autumn leaves start to fall, and the dark clouds of winter, Descent upon your tidy streets, The sound of laughing children, Parents shouting, Old people chatting, They have all gone. For now, These Suffolk bricks, The playthings of a wealthy few, To rent out or Second homes, Changing rooms for the beach, For dinner parties. To Wipe clean sandy feet, and to sleep off the summer sun. But Southwold, I still love you, And I wish to return, To stand and pick summer lavender, From your cottage gardens, To Roll it gently between my fingers, Until its oils leak out, and provide me, With a small glimpse Of Heaven. John Roberts August 2017