gathers darkness dust
beneath an overcast sky
falling upon the harbour
the yachts the water;
what are the yachts saying
far across empty fields of water
resting poised like a quill
what do they rise to whisper?
slipping insights to each other
what will time write or has time
written across the oily harbour
waters of our salient beating lives?
Terence George Craddock (Afterglows Echoes Of Starlight)
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem