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In my continued series of “poetry sent to me by random people,” I present to you the following work by William Wordsmith (I’m pretty sure that’s a pen name). It’s called “The Sea” and I’m sure you’ll find it delightful.

The Sea
by William Wordsmith

I think the Sea
Should come to me,
For when I stay
On holiday
It’s always cold
(And I am old).

But when I’m here
The sky is clear;
The sun is out
And people shout
And have such fun
beneath said sun.

So that is why
I think the sky
Is better here
In Haslemere.
There’s not much sand,
But I can stand
To do without,
And would not pout
If, once, the Sea
Would come to me.