Streaming sailboats on the auburn horizon,
a glorious day spent by the sea.
Queueing up at the chippy for minutes, twenty.
I polish that off with mushy peas, plenty.

Now awaits the most awaited treat,
“Make it the biggest scoop, please.”
Licking away the delicious scoop,
I stroll on the promenade merrily.

Down come a gang of white feathers plump.
With such precision, those rascals make me jump.
Now, my empty cone mourns the delicious biggest cone of salty caramel,
blitzed away by that greedy gang of wicked, white sea gulls.