Changes

 Went to cheer my daughter on as she ran the London Marathon. We made our way to several spots along the route to see her pass and give her a cheer. One place we stood and watched the runners was the Old Surrey Docks and Canada dock. It was from here I used to sail as a ships officer aboard the Baltic Venture and the Baltic Vanguard bound for Finland.

This poem occurred to me at the time. In many ways it was sad.

The Docks

 

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 sink into the tarmac unnoticed now.

Voices heard laughing, shouting, crying, arguing

As children play in the shadows of their homes.

Once deeper voices shouted, swore, and laughed 

Broad backs and strong arms pushed and heaved

Cranes banged, whined, moved and whirled

Cargo loaded for distant exotic places

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 never to return.