SHAVINGS AND SCRAPINGS
We chip away
on this beheaded night,
waiting for the memories
to meet us round the corners
of our seafaring dreams.
The folk have gone away,
left the frames of tinted photographs behind
and disappeared into scrapbooks
of shavings and scrapings
on historic shelves.
Monuments outlive us,
smirk knowingly at us
as our faces twitch
and bodies shuffle along streets
that are all at sea.
Fare thee well old Shields,
my Dolly girls,
this old evening
I sail away,
leaving a floating life behind
for the gulls to pick at
and demolish
by the forgotten pub;
the grimy lane
of forgotten loves.
KEITH ARMSTRONG
