Saturday, 2 March 2013

At the harbour


I dream of those sapphire shores
In still motion, caught like the bold swirls
Of an oil painting
The dream is calm, even if in its sense
Of dislocation,
The boat with the red and white sails looks too large
To be piloted by one man, alone

Yet here it is, in the world of my dreams
As it was once in the living world of a dreamer
A lapping at the harbour
A ribbon of salty water
And one boat, trimmed red and white, set diagonally
Across a rising foam tipped wave
Suspended

I have new dreams, sharing with you this vista
As we make our way, hand in hand,
Along that selfsame harbour
In that timeless town of white sentinel houses
Overlooking, as we overlook
Those red and white sails, that
Single distorted moment of freedom