So many cobbles and boulders.
Let me redraw each contour line;
they say mortar that binds all stones is mixedwith blood -
and when I look at each slipway,
I remember a prince's wish
to anchor boats
deep in your bay
and add colours to your skyline.
Now let me whisper to the maas -
their reflections really fly high;
and wherever the wind may turn,
there is a home for every boat,
resting poppies on memorials,
as mist moves in,
shadows belong to the gallows...
I never knew tears in your eyes
but when I look back to the hill I feel your world
and want to step back to your door,
where that peerie dog and stoneman
always welcome you
We both stood by that silver boat,
there's an angel in the harbour.
the maas = gulls
© Nat Hall 2010