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
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.