Mrs Gladys Allsopp-Jones goes to the Beach.

In her sixties now Gladys dreaded the cold,
She travelled to the beach trying to be bold,
She went because it might be fun, she was told.
Gladys said she would not swim she was far too old.

There were gentle ladies with dark glasses on,
They were telling rowdy children to begone,
The sand was warm and the glorious Sun shone,
Gladys sat there like a sad queen on her throne.

Mountains around gave views that went forever, 
The sky was light blue a sign of good weather,
The children throw sand failing to be clever,
But Gladys said no she would not swim ever.

Near the river people had cake and white bread,
They had beef and pork, “hurrah” the children said,
Some drank wine and sang when they were all fed,
Gladys said no she would rather go to bed.

Gladys was left quite alone on her cane chair,
She began talking to the warm midday air,
I should swim in the sea but I do not dare,
My grey hair would get wet but I would not care.

For the longest time she stared at the wild sea,
Wondering why she was so afraid to be,
Was her life long enough for validity?
Some come to the beach to cocoon and be free,
Others come to escape their life’s misery.