I viewed in my presence

My hand on my forehead

And sighting the liners

Of mad merchant seamen

In search of the living

Or the spices of China



Lucy walked gently

Between the damp barrels

And shut out my eyes

With the width of her fingers

Said she'd guessed the number

Of bales in the back room



While the seagulls were screaming

Lucy was eating

Then we hauled up our colours

The way the mother had told us

And together we just watched the sails



Lucy I said

In a passage of cotton kegs

Can we hold hands

I'm sure that it's warmer

Then the gulls ate the crumbs

Of Lucy's sandwich