Blue and white flower zeniths…

On approaching the white cliffs of Beachy Head
A feeling of hysteria and glee—snuck over me.
As sunshine began pouring down, instead of slanting rain
It was here I proudly proclaimed some local knowledge.

“This is one of the world’s most notorious suicide spots…
Did you know that?
Do you know that?
Is it; came back a short swift but agreeable response.

Once standing there an eternity for one marooned second
We both switched our notice to a deep blue flower”.
Is it real or plastic, thoughts ran wild; mine to is it a gentian?
So then, I decided I’d have a looksee—see and find out.

It were right on the edge no-less nourished than the sun
So I knelt down beside it, and then I took a long look over…
O how lovely those well-worn cobbles, how milky the sea:
It’s dreamier than any voyeuristic dreams I’d ever had.

However, instead of leaning that extra step forwards
Plummeting into that billowy white marble slab,
Of leaping, blind with the faith of jumping lemmings,
The plastic world: with its plastic blue flowers
Struck a chord and pulled me back to its earthly roots,
Form that postcard edge of gone forever.