Paradise

The palm trees are wilting

Along the boulevards, as cars

Remain locked

Outside boarded-up homes

And the little bars

With broad terrazas

Display only cardboard notices

Saying “cerrado” or “se vende”

All the beaches are empty,

Untouched sand, unspoilt

By photographs taken on smartphones

Cordoned off, instead, with cones

And police tape

Then, it all begins to take shape

As the waves rise and the curve begins

To swell

The day Paradise turned

To Hell.

© Copyright David Marriott  all rights reserved­.