We were warmed by a fire of sea coals -
Through the window, we could see the harbour -
The small fishing boats with their mysterious gear -
The salt rimed fishermen casting off -
The reflections of storm tested hulls in the water -
And beyond the lighthouse the pale horizon -
There was a globe on the window sill -
The continents small enough to fit in your hand -
I could sit here all of the dark days with my dizzying glass -
Planning voyages to golden shores -
November 2019
The Golden Ball
Scarborough
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