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Weston Super Mare

A poem by Fiona Hobson


A gentle s

troll down

Weston Beach, ba refoot you feel the grains of sand.


g n i g n i s t s o m l a g n i l t , s r a Whis e r u o y s e it b d . n s i d w n a h d n a cheeks


e h t s t lp u c s it The sea s it g in v a le , d n la surrounding . s w o l f it t a h t re e h w y r e v e k r a m


The histo

ry held w

each ripp

ithin

le formed

crashing

, with ea

ch

wave an d droplet that falls .


e h t s d r a w o t g n i Walk .. . r e i P d n a r G w ne


Memories linger in the ashes of the old.


, ir a e h t s ll fi r a g Salt and vine


But only once pla ce open in t his bitter cold.


With boarded windows and doors long closed,


Old fashioned buildings with stories to tell.


rs e p s i h w e h t , s t e e r Hearing t s t e i u q e h t h g d n a throu s p o h s f o es s s a m with ls. e t o h g n i l b crum


Weston Zine  

A poem illustrated with Weston-Super-Mare photographs.

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