Newhaven Harbour
My mother's birthplace
With nets and fish.
To see it survive
Was her dying wish.
I swam in the harbour
As a mischievous boy.
The summers were long
For us it was joy.
The fishing boats
Have now left the scene.
The fisherman's houses
Now a field of green.
The harbour survives,
My mother long gone
I'm think she would say;
"Life must move on."
her ashes were spread
By the fisherman's light.
I place flowers each year,
As I will tonight.
Copyright © George Mcdougall | Year Posted 2008
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