The tide, and the tide, I saw a woman on the prow of a ship, signing these words and I smelt the sea as she crashed against the rocks and as salt laden mist high and curling and dashing sea and crashing waves and rocks holding back perched against and up holding and praying for the ghosts to free her from responsibility and tears again and again , grandmother, grand father, touching my finger tips before slipping back and ghosts and memory of houses, cathedrals, shells and bells and tears from limpet shells, and hells bay, a body floating face down, drowned and the men that stayed at home and the men that refused to lie, could not sleep but peep out from under their blankets at chinamen in windows, rose and went out into the tempestuous sea to accompany the body of that long dead sea person so as to sleep in complete conscience, tonight, and smell the paraffin as the wick is starved. now I sit and wait.....and wait...and it grows cold and colder, no one comes and I think of my love and loved ones and I cry, but don't care, so tears remain, no one comes..I look out into the land and remember as a child and then a young woman and now an old lady, I sit alone and wait until I eventually see the light cold, cold, cold. (this is for my grandmother I love er!)