Midnight over Mellieha Bay,

new holiday apartments

dotting the once barren sands,

crumbling castles formed

from plastic dream

and two weeks of summer break.

I once caught a glimpse

of the fragmenting Sun

from under the ramparts

of the green umbrella and the screams

of afternoon drunk disciples

lounging erect in the burning shadow;

I blinked and looked out

across the flat sea,

ripples of ebbing life

exhausted by decaying time

and I fear the long trek

up the hill to Mellieha.

Ian D. Hall 2016