Like channel swimmer’s struggling to shore, the stanchions fight to gain foothold in the sand, while siren song of waves lures them out to sea. Their days as foundations for a slipway have sunk beneath the waters of memory. Now they try in vain to shake the salt from their rotting timbers one last time.
N.B. My choice of words at the start of this post was entirely coincidental, but I see G-Man was on the same wavelength for his 55! *smiles*
Now it's 3am Friday morning, and I can't sleep, so I've written another fitting 55.
I sit here like Madame Defarge,
ensure Mr Crapper looms large
by writing this crap
‘stead of taking a nap.
My words heap Blogland with discharge.
You see, they’re a flash in the pan,
which I add to, whenever I can
with humour and fun.
Jinksy’s always a one
to create a smile for G-man!
(And anybody else who happens to pass by, of course! Now I'm going back to bed, perchance to dream...)