We can sleep in tomorrow if you like.
Let dreams unfurl, give them a proper
runout. Watch them float over our sallow
sheets toward the marshes in the late
morning. The tides are perfect.

Weekdays, your beauty shines brightest
on the early bus; rows of people going to
work – foundries, building sites, bright
office rooms, heads bobbing to the pothole
symphony – it’s the same old song.

I’ll wander about the Pier Head while you
work; think about Keggo on the early shift,
hauling rock drywall up the stairs of the
new hospital. Maybe I’ll write something
for you? (what I write will be meaningless).

Our lives need meaning. The river, the
docks give us meaning – a shared history.
Money, too, gives purpose – the need to
earn, to provide. We need to be needed.
Our children need us, we need their gift of love.

It is January, New Year. The house is quiet in the
late afternoon. I go out toward the docks – the
Clan Line warehouse, the distant cranes, the lull
of the rain – all at peace – time crawling calmly
to a close. It’s mad how quick the light goes.

…

Nick Power is a writer and musician from Wirral, North West England. He has had a number of books published, including tour diary Into The Void and recent poetry collection Bright Angel Proof, all on erbacce-press.