It’s never easy to reach

a conclusion;

and even less easy

to reach a beach,

unless you are near one,

and can travel that way.

.

“Why the title?” you ask.

.

Well, gentle reader,

a poem must have a title,

or else untitled it is;

or titled ‘Untitled’

if you do desire,

written by a nun

or a non

in a choir.

.

“That’s just silly!”

commented the gentle reader,

his boots all aglow.

“What is all this nonsense?”

.

Aside: ‘The gentle reader must go!’

.

We met on a beach,

face to face,

toe to toe,

I offered the reader a lifeline,

it was tied to a speedboat just so.

Twice round the harbour,

once round the block,

when he returned,

I had a custard-filled sock.

.

“Whack!” went the sound effect.

.

“Ow!” the reply.

.

Now there was a death on the beach;

and, as to the title: that’s why.