Back in Dewsbury they chatter,
Of a day they visited Lands End
On a Shearing's coach.
"What was it like?"
"Oh there was a lovely pub there
We had a Cornish cream tea."
The wind was whistling
Through nook and cranny,
Whilst ripping the cliffs apart.
White horses like
Unleashed stallions prancing
Heads held high
Dancing for attention
Galloping onto jagged rocks
Baying at the flickering of the lighthouse.
"The clotted cream was lovely."
Clouds scudding back to back
Streaking the sky
Parting, allowing prongs
Of sunlight like tentacles,
To reach out and
Embrace the fretting tide.
Sea birds huddled
Static against volcanic rock
Awaiting the storm's cedence.
"Nothing much to see there really."