I meet the youth of school girl ways
And weep the aging tear.
The city lights and rushing days
In white and amber gear,
the civic walls by Itchen shore
the freight awaiting ship
as smoke from liners’ funnels pour
from mental journals slip
When does this time, denim the guise,
reveal a wizened crone
who saw the docks in grief demise
recession’s cost the drone.
Where is the girl in St Anne’s blue
adorned as ashened tree
I bid farewell to things I knew
No tears it’s time to be
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