Pomona Dock by Alan McKean

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Pomona Dock

 

Old and muddy water

Meanders its way through the dock

On its way

To the Irish Sea,

Taking with it

150 years of memories.

 

The great trade ships

No longer feed the city.

The strain and crack

Of dockers’ muscles

Have faded into history.

 

Overgrown piers

No longer

Give life to cotton,

As heron, gull, eagle and goose

Reclaim the water and mud.

 

Warehouses,

Once Cathedrals to trade,

Are upgraded

Into glass and chrome citadels

As the quays become

The Quays.

 

Ghosts

Of sail and steam,

Mingle with university rowers,

As dock and quay

Drift down the years.

 

The memory of the old

The dreams of the new

Merge

In old and muddy water.

 

Alan McKean