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 19th-century sandstone buildings
The night was full of ghosts.