Winter Blues and the Sea
When skies hang low and daylight fades,
Hove’s huts stand proud in muted shades –
A row of friends through wind and rain,
Who whisper, summer will come again.
The sea turns wild, the air turns clear,
Waves crash their rhythm in the ear;
Each crest a promise, bold and true –
That beauty lives in grey tones too.
So when the blues come rolling in,
And light feels thin upon the skin,
Look out – not back – across the sea,
And feel your soul set quietly free.
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