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TO THE HARBOUR
By JACKIE ANDERSON

We used to walk to the harbour,
You and I,
On summer evenings
And watch the sky drown in flames
Into a sea ablaze with the fires of sunset.
And we would gaze in childish wonder
At the purple silhouettes
Of the Spanish hills, their grandeur
Distant forms of closer shadows.

In hushed whispers,
So the silent boats
Could not hear our simple dreams
Of travels beyond
The gates that hemmed us in,
We dangled lines into the green sea
To catch the gleaming fish
That teemed, like silver streaks
Between those towering sides of steel with painted names,
Foreign marks that spoke of distant shores
And all those tempting places,
With green hills,
With forests wide,
Rivers, mountains,
Herds of cows,
Horses to ride,
Fast cars and motorways,
Fresh milk -
Pasteurised, not UHT -
And most of all,
With jobs, and universities,
With endless opportunities,
So much more than we,
Prisoners in house arrest,
Could ever hope for.