Lighthouse Dreams - Southwold © 2008 Beryl Dyson

A giant cone in bridal white
Relieved by silver ripples bright,
Darkness gone, the night's work done,
Pastel shades stretch from the sun.
No work to do in light of day
But stand and while my time away
For fun I count the chimney pots,
The little boats, the sailing yachts.
A gentle River Blythe today,
No thundering waves or drenching spray.
Children playing on the sand.
Bathing huts, unique not grand.

A passing friend and dog on chain
Look up to check my weathervane,
In sunshine, fog or North-East gale,
Stop at the Inn for local ale.
Wedding bells or seagull quarrels
Mingle with clanging brewery barrels.
Horses clop and pull a cart,
Knowing when to stop or start.
On the Common sporting pleasure,
Birds and wild-flowers, time for leisure.
Dunes and Marshland, grazing cattle.
Not forgetting Sole Bay's Battle!

Check the sun, yes, all is well,
The bay is calm without a swell.
Antiquely dressed in fine display
Town Crier shouts "Oyez", "Oyez."
Millenium soon to celebrate,
Music, fair or garden fete,
Views of monumental splendour
Portrayed on plates by Market Vendor.
Glorious sunsets, gold and crimson,
Flocks of birds foretell the season,
To pass, like shipping in the night,
Guided by my beaming light.

The pier was lost through weight of ice,
Bavent land slips in a trice,
The cruel North Sea keeps creeping in,
Dome of Sizewell, who will win?
If only I had the gift of speech,
Southwold's history I would teach,
I cannot work both day and night,
So I'll remain a guiding light.
Oh, people of this island treasure,
My life, my love, my home forever,
Save us from the watery graves,
Don't let us slide into the waves.