Poem of the Month

 

Do you remember?

By Gill Ward

Do you remember the streamers – the

ones we threw from the ships?

And the crowds on the old wooden

wharves who grasped them as

we threw.  That boy I was leaving

to get 12,000 miles away from…

I just had to hope that he was on the

other end of the one I hurled – my heart

beating with the excitement the hurly

burly and crashing of it all.

And the surging: Now is the Hour

Exquisite nostalgia such apprehension/

such unholy joy!

The side clanging , the rope hauling,

the shuddering, the boom, the smells

of oil and sea and fish

and the dank grey of the worn piles

and the break; the distance that felt

like final.

 

And now, these long later days.

I feel you receding. You are further away

down one of those playground tunnels.

The ones of huge drain pipes. I need to peer

right down, squint my eyes painfully

for a glimpse of your reassuring shadow.

I know you are there you have

told me so and all I can do

 

is hope that it is you holding

the other end of my streamer.