The lonely island
that sits on Three-Rivers
wet city
whose back is graced
by flowing hair
tied in moss
with sticky hands
from carrying the dishes
to the sink
I am fond of you Three-Rivers
I adore you
Beautiful thing
you who offers a shoulder
to sleep
or gives warmth
from your cobbled heart
my every-day love
I have sung every inch of you
in ritual
heard your dirty jokes
& watched the undulations
as you laugh at yourself
I will die a lonely island
(we all die alone)
sat on you, Three-Rivers
you, maiden of discovery
naming me explorer
as I step into the unknown
once again
from your shores
Thom Boulton
Thom Boulton
Poet Laureate for Plymouth (2016-20)
Event Co-ordinator for The Deadbeat Hotel (Live Events)
www.thomboulton.com
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