Almost elegant

Same night, another post. Another night post, this one a poem about the first words of Auden's I read that aren't entirely banal. Here I go...

'Dover... almost elegant' it is!

My mother used to holiday in Dover as a child, I've always loved the name because told about it in  Mum's fond remembering voice, presumably. This is my poem to Dover (for Mum).

To Dover

My mother saw the sea from Croydon there

The seaside always sounded exotic
Like the circus

I have never been
To Dover

I have always meant to go

One day, when I do go
To Dover 

I plan to see
The White Cliffs

Almost elegantly
There