Shipyard

No longer do the bottles;
champagne into painted steel
explode in joy as marching bands
are trumpeting a hulls release

Cranes;
like busy herons,
feeding in a crowded pond
Now stilled silent guardians;
where truly none belong

Ravens do not hover now;
lunchtime chaos dimmed
Rats have fled the sunken ship;
outlook surely grim

Vandalised office space;
comfort shattered locks
Rusted pythons of thick links;
fade into the broken docks

Brown the stains of discontent;
joyfully they spread
Beehive for the mariners;
but the queen is too long dead

Watchman,
through bottled eyes,
overproof to fight his loss
From tiny shed bewails the dead,
remembering the lost

Memories of his childhood;
the mighty ships they built
But drunken rage can’t assuage,
what is forever spilt

Circumstances change,
with tidal ebb and flow
In misery his job remains,
where thousands used to go

Bottle dark;
another swig;
time to take the walk
Silent sentries
stand above
if only they could talk

Religiously
unfaltering
wanders through the ruin
Bottle waits
Uncaring
Knows he’ll be back soon

...
..
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