West Cliff Hall, Ramsgate Poem by Angela Wybrow

It breaks my heart,
to see such a sight;
A place full of darkness,
where, once, there was light.

It was a gem of a place,
which, once, was so grand;
Where The Rolling Stones
entertained hundreds of fans.

There was Ballroom dancing
on a Saturday night:
When sequins and smiles
dazzled so bright.

At Christmas time,
There was many a bash:
Back when its parquet floor shone,
And its windows weren't smashed.

It was a museum for a time,
Packed full of old cars,
But, now it stands empty,
With a battered facade.

The place is full of dust and decay,
With graffiti adorning its walls;
And, sadly, there is now only silence
Filling its huge, empty, echoing halls.

It now stands on the clifftop
In a sad, sorry old state;
Waiting eagerly to hear
Of its uncertain fate.

That it is in such a state,
Is almost a crime;
Let's hope there comes a day,
When, once again, it is able to shine.