View from Barry Island promenade

I remember the yakking hard- faced gulls
From my younger tender days
Their squawking, screaming persistence
Their swooping darting ways.

They’d even land beside you
Which really wrecked my head.
To steal your lunch - no problem,
They had a taste for chips and bread.

And a stare that if not evil
Looked at best perplexed
With a degree of bare-faced cheek
that said: I'm going for your ice cream next.