Sat at the Barbican, Plymouth, in my car - what else can I write about?
I'll add a picture tomorrow when I get a good one.
A welcome relief from the personal, this one. Hope you like it xx
Ghostly press gangers slump still through these alleys,
Darkened walls that drip with muddy memories,
Absorber of guilt and grime in a time frieze,
The bricks hold ancient abductor's tallies.
Tall ships would've been hailed in this harbour,
Homeward bound sailors gilded with seasalt,
Ready to ahoy flagons of malt
And a quick bit of alleyway amour.
Not much has changed in this place by the sea,
The grumblings beneath the shiny new teeth,
That smile at the stranger, waiting to bite.
Bars burst with bluster, the same company,
Gloss on the top, resentment beneath,
But no Kings shilling at the end of your pint.