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Poetry
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| Tide ebbed for ever | |
| By BrianRobertNeal | ||||||||
| 02 June 2007 | ||||||||
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The more things changr]e the more they stay the same-if only! A lament. Stood on dock’s disused tidal gate, Looking toward dismasted hulk, That had been lazily scuttled. Mere shorn lamb carelessly ruddled, With signs stating “Dangerous Bulk”. Example of throwaway trait. For in the old days it had been, Plying trade between continent, Never ballast ever cargo. Iron ore, green sand, copra, mango. Anything that paid its percent. Sadly steamers sank sail serene Turning round to look at the dock, Which pleasure crafted the canal, That no longer reached out to sea, Just gate and silted estuary. Reduced to synthetic banal Heritage Park and inland lock.
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