WHILE WALKIN' WEYMOUTH SANDS (A poem in progress. Well, it's bin a long time comin'.)

RED SAILS
ETCHED
WAY-OUT ON
WEYMOUTH BAY'S
WHITE-CLIFF
BACK-DROP.
PORTLY PEOPLE
WALKIN' THEIR DOGS.
i THINK OF FATS
WHILE THE WAVES'
KEEP A
STEADY RIFF.
THE SUN 
SOMEWHERE
TWIXT SUNRISE
AND SUNSET.
THE RED SAILS
HAVE DISAPPEARED.

* * * * * * *

bernard hemensley

GOLDY HERMITAGE

18 / OCTOBER / 2018

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