Living on the edge

A cacophony of bells and whistles
The jangling coinfall of a lucky winner
Mesmerising and dizzying lights:
The arcade shuts out the grey wet day.

The arcade
Transports me back to childhood days
With Mum and Nan
In Southend,
With its pier, its beach, its rides
And best of all
Fish & chips in paper bags
Sodden with salty vinegar.

Today no-one has
Succumbed to the arcade's lure.
Somewhere between seedy and sad
It battles on
And waits for summer.
Living on the edge,
Hoping to survive.