It lies distraught, its back is bent;

Those that pass have their own lament;

Of things that were, when they were there.

What joys, what thrills, awarded them;

With bumping hearts, they left the shore,

The young, the old, the special needs,

All were known and guaranteed;

The fun, the games, with equal thrills;

The cranky cars for advanced skills,

The swerves and bumps and joyous shrieks;

From girls who skirts rushed to their cheeks.

The fish, the chips, the candyfloss,

The waiting queues ensured the need.

The butler's views not now to read;

The time of innocence exposed and bare.

And now all gone, the slate wiped clean;

Only sadness now upon the shore;

The West Pier awaits the knacker's yards.

-Barry Hemphill, Richmond, Surrey