This is a case of leaving home,
for holiday, say both lens, books,
though hefty tomes for relaxed read -
Gideon Bible thief at large?
Then chrome-look locks, photography
suggests outdated, former ways,
paraphernalia, past phase.
Maybe home was yesterday.
For few had need of passports when
a coach to pier and not for flight;
there was, of course, more rain than sun,
some lodging, bed and breakfast rate,
a promenade, with greasy spoons,
spade, sandless bucket, sewage sea,
where skimming stones from pebbled beach -
no dreaming, castles in the air.
But we were out of city streets,
those gangs and bullies, guttersnipes,
as for a fortnight, family;
an image-prompted memory.
Is this a show then, for display,
some travel agent, olden days?
Or show, perhaps, here, of regret?
Did we know more then than do now?