Lights in the harbour blinking at the sea,
waves crash up against the dock,
boats bobbing here and there,
and people,
people walking along the harbour drunkenly,
and seagulls waiting for fish from the trawlers coming in,
and the boisterous shouts of groups of women and men,
and the sound of the wind,
as a man on a bicycle passes by and struggles in it,
and nearly gets blown into the harbour,
as people laugh happily,
and people walk up and down,
and in and out of the alleyways,
between the rows of quaint shops looking for food to eat,
and by the seaside in the evening time how relaxing it is,
with a holiday mind,
and how enjoyable it is, but not if you live here all the time,
because it is an empty place in the winter,
and in the winter barely anyone pays it any mind,
and the people they struggle to survive,
and in the summer, they make the most of it,
and how beautiful are the towns by the seaside,
in the summertime,
and as the happy voices carry through the air,
and there is laughter everywhere,
and in the restaurants and the bars,
captured are people’s hearts,
by a lightness of mood,
that comes in the summertime,
where there is a calmer peace of mind,
calmer than the nine to five existence,
of which they are used to and the daily grind,
the daily grind,
where the people struggle to keep their eyes open,
and the boredom away,
and how much better it is in the town,
in the summertime and in heat of the day,
and in the bright lights of the night,
by the harbour where people come out,
to ease their worries away,
what a life, what a joy, what a holiday!
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