THE ROAD BACK TO ESSEX:
Stirring the Irish sea in our wake we cross back over to
the other side. Picture taking each other on the deck in
sunlit spray. All the Blues & Whites come out to play to
the song of rust. The hills of North Wales as we dock
preserve memories of childhood hiding in the dunes, scooping
dreams out of streams with tiny green plastic nets on
the ends of spindly canes. The cry of gulls scavenging
between buses loaded with stars, queueing to take our place.
Ireland has never let us down, nor do I believe it ever will.
The kickdrum speaks & we dance together. Casting off rain’s
lame attempt to bring us down. Dark becomes luminous.
Night chimes with smiles.