11. The Boat In The Farmyard


The old black boat

Will never float

Except upon a sea of nettles;

Half on her side

She lay, and died

Among the pots and rusty kettles.


She once was swift

When tides did lift

Her prow when she went to the fishing;

But now her bones

Rest on the stones

And only I am wishing, wishing.


She has a crew,

Not like she knew

When she was manned and sailed the ocean;

But hens and chicks

Their bearings fix,

Left undisturbed by lack of motion.


Her name is gone,

She is unknown,

And no-one cares to find her story;

No-one but I

Who sit and sigh,

And dream of voyages and glory.



Weekly Times 2.6.61