Memories of the Prom

By Maria O’Reilly-McHugh

After midday a perfect time for a stroll,
The mighty rocks show their splendour
from under the now dormant waves.
No breeze meets me as I briskly walk towards the diving board,
Yet I’m greeted with a cool breeze heading the other way.

In days long gone It was the treat of a four-wheeled bike,
Brightly coloured though the wind still got through
as the wheels turned to their steady beat.
From one end of the Prom to the other.
The joys – simple joy of cycling no money could pay!