The still water reflects the blue sky,
Patterned with orange clouds.
Beer bottles, old fish hooks and rusty cans
Cautiously poke out of the sodden sand.
The graffiti covered barrier is bleached a dull grey,
From all the raging storms and salty waves it has conquered.
Rough green moss creeps slowly up the leaning lamp post,
Heading towards the grimy smashed bulb at the top.
Slimy fishing nets entangle around pieces of driftwood.
A tiny crab scuttles in and out of the small rock pools,
Digging in the sand - looking for food.
The remains of war huts litter the ground.
The last rays of sunlight slide across the water,
And then they are gone until the dawn of tomorrow.
I gaze dreamily at this wasteland,
Thinking of the past,
When the sea lapped softly at the rubbish clear sand.
When sea life scuttled around busily on these now lonely rocks.
When the barriers were clean of disrespectful graffiti,
And that old leaning lamp was straight with a working bulb.
My heart fills with sorrow
As I commemorate all the memories of happiness I spent is this now called dump.
All gone.
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