Eyeing the water

Sitting on timber boards

Drinking in the dark

We watched the boats in the bay

I wondered how the people get to the boats from the shore.

We sat there until late in the night

Moonlight played on the white boats

One name stood out, Penelope.

An old man sat on the bow

Scrubbing the side of the boat with a brush.

Later, I walked home beside the blue-white quay

And saw the little rowboats that must have been the answer.

I turned from the harbour and wandered up into the city

Passing the 19^th-century sandstone buildings

The night was full of ghosts.