To Lovell's Wharf Warwick and I would go;
In need to find what little of our selfs was left;
After the storm-passions of domestic life had carved their share.
Answering the call, as mating birds do, we took up the song;
Beating rhythmically across her waters,
To follow her scent riding high on the wind,
To amble gently to her side.
Finding our images mirrored in her depths,
Realising the way that lay ahead;
Taking us past her feathered lovers, feeding quietly by her banks,
Past the place where I dared Warwick jump,
Towards the foreign ships wherein had always lain adventure.
Remembering those nights Margaret and Suzie, the sailor's friends;
Prospered fully by surrendering themselves,
Remembering too, but some yards from Lovell's Wharf;
I lost what little innocence I had stored.