The grass grows tall here
Smudged with mauve and white and gold
And clumps of buttercups crawl
Across the timbers of the old abandoned wharf.
Birds nest where tall ships used to moor
Where the river still laps undisturbed.
Rotting, rusting wood and iron
The wharf waits peacefully to sink
Into the river mud beneath the weight
Of a million golden buttercups.
©Carine06
