Sweat
pouring from their sun-kissed brows
Ale
fuelled patrons quench their thirst
Offshore
workers welcome onshore reprieve
The
pen rises again with a sigh of relief
Bronzed
skin and foreign tongues abound
Smothering
the streets with temporary wealth
Filling
the air with the pounding of feet
Words
fall on parchment to their rhythm and beat
Sun
soaked fishermen sail their ships of dreams
Tell
tales of catches so large they engulf the town
Small
harbour town lives for life in the tales
Pen
flows freely through the storms and gales
Basking
in the grounds of the long ruined keep
Marvelling
as white horses crash to the shore
Travellers
passing through soak up the history
Words
tumble from the pen telling their story
Merging
as one in the alehouse by the sea
Stories
are swapped of life and of living
Tales
of bygone days and current travels
One
mind muses as the plot unravels
Convergence
of old blood and new continues
Night
passes as new friendships are born
Knowing
as they part they may never meet again
Words
fall no more, the pen lies quiet again
©
Fergus Martin
July
2013
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