A space usually full of colour and vitality now lies fallow.It’s desolate here; the wind is fierce and the sand is hard.
A grim picture of grey awaits wanton wanderers.
No families dance here now,
like an abandoned fairground,
There’s a solemn beauty about the deserted shore,
But that’s the paradox of the beach in winter.
Its annual renaissance is never far away andits sober silence sits astride a confidence of more glory forthcoming.
Vibrancy will return to the sands and so too will the laughter. - Robert Siney