Holly



I see him now
Through ten year old eyes
Crossed legged at his feet
With Dog as a companion
Musing in eveningrtime firelight

A large man
Seaman’s jersey, faded trouser
Belt of burnished leather
Which from once had swung
A pirate’s cutlass
Such is boyhood fantasy

Web wrinkled cheeks
Salt fashioned
By the southern Trade winds
Blue far away eyes
Wistful for release
From the anchor of Kentish fields

And the old tales
Knee hugging wonder
In the half light of the dying day
The wanderings of the Western Star
Held together with rust and rivets
Plying the copra trade in far away islands

As the telling unfolded
The room, Dog and I faded
Lost in a cherry pipe haze
Keening memory in cornflower eyes
“Five days out from Sumatra Sounds
Running with the south easterly blow”

Ah, Holly your world was never here
Imprisoned with its made to measure values
Nor with the company of harps and angels
But maybe at Gods side you retell the old tales
“Five days out from Sumatra Sounds
Running with the south easterly blow”