Water glistens below the bright flower beds
Tall white buildings reflected shapes shimmering
In sepia coloured liquid lapping redundant quays
Rope fenders still clinging to the concrete walls
Iron rails sunk into the tarmac beside the quay edge
Unnoticed now by all but a handful of men.
Voices echo through the abandonned cranes
Laughing, shouting, crying, arguing
As children play in the shadows of their homes
Unmindful of the history close by.
Once, years before in this very place
Deeper voices shouted, swore, laughed and moaned
Broad backs and strong arms pushed and heaved
Cranes banged, whined, moved and whirled
Cargo loading for distant exotic unkown places
Names on the case and the checkers’ sheets
Bales, boxes, bundles, cases and casks
Discharged for the market down the road.
Dynamic energy spilt for the demands of trade.
Now faded into folk lore, remembered by few.
Flats gardens and living people in their place.
In the sky above, a lone seagull cries
Reminded of the sounds of the docks and
Shades of long lost ships tied to bollards and
The ghostly wail of a ships whistle in the mist
Never to return.
