Mudlark Echoes
Across the flats where mudlarks toiled,
where in a day the pittance made
would barely serve to wash the soiled;
a stark reward for labors paid.
When then I shook from daydream's stares
to trod upon its sucking grasp
and seek what proof the tides have bared
- small fragments of a spartan past.
Yet now alone, except the birds
who search the teaming flats for food,
the glee of children can be heard
as echoes from the Thames intrudes.
Again the ebb's retreating tides
expose the secrets that it hides.
(Dedicated to the poor, who searched in the mudflats of Thames for something of value to trade for food)
Copyright © Craig Cornish | Year Posted 2020
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