Sunday morning amble along the riverbank
With youngest daughter
and Finbar
The old boatyards are gone, the wine warehouses and the wharves, the railway and the tramway. The buildings went about twenty years ago and since then, nature has taken over. Wild flowers grow among the sleepers of the old railway.
and between the cobbles of a road that once served the warehouses of the port long since demolished and removed.
No traffic runs here
On this hidden road,
Visited only by the sun.
Grass grows where once carts passed
Framing each cobblestone in green
And wildflowers grow
Where freight trucks rattled.
Lizards laze
Humming bees and crickets
The loudest sound.
Few feet tread these stones now
Their memories lie quiet
Enshrined in coarse grass
And the delicate faces
Of yellow flowers.
Part of an old wharf still exists, covered in saplings and buttercups
a zone of wilderness that runs…
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Viv Drewa - The Owl Lady 