The Chain Ferry - Bryony de Lat

The chain takes the strain, as the ramp swings up,
so long she's been crossing the tides
the creek is flat calm, but the waves awake
to start their dance along her riveted sides.

The grand old lady has crossed the water so often,
in hazy sunshine and Winter's cold rains
on each new day, and each new tide
that chug, and the smell of huge oily chains.

Now time and rust have ended her days,
she's grown old, and tired, and weak,
but at dawn, when it's quiet, I'm sure I still hear
The chain ferry crossing the creek.

Bryony de Lat