Charles Jobson: Days that are past

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< Poems by Charles Jobson >

Days that are past

Black timber walls line the side,
reaching away to the distance.
Water laps away
by the dirty canal side.

Choppy water, abandoned river craft.
Windows bleached over.
Faded curtains hid from sight.
A covering of green.

An old chain restricts the boat:
neither is of any use.
All outlived their purpose,
retired from public gaze.

The towpath is overgrown,
muddy, slippery and wet.
A strong odour
permeates the scene.

Floating plastic and wood,
merge with the algae and slime,
refuse carelessly tossed in,
drifting nowhere special.

Behind barbed wire
lies ancient machinery,
too tired to work.
Everything on holiday.