A Ferry Story

Endless traverse between two counties

Pulled and pulled by giant chains

Even through the night

Ensuring the ancient crossing is sustained

When the babies wouldn’t settle

We’d wrap them up and strap them in

Milk-merry, cruising back and forth

Until, relenting, sleep would win

The trusty Torpoint triplets
Tamar, Lynher and Plym
They relish the tale of Sisyphus

(They can identify with him)

They’ll never chart a course of their own choosing

Nor divert on an ocean-going whim

Each dreams of one spontaneous voyage

None lets her captivity define her

She know she’s a vital coupling

Thanks to the chains which confine her
The tethered Torpoint troika
Plym, Tamar and Lynher

 

For 15 or so minutes

Each commute’s an odyssey

Making a stepping stone of the Hamoaze

Where river gives way to sea

The dropping of the chains

A transitory seabed scar

All that movement, all those miles

It never gets them very far

The trammelled Torpoint trio

Lynher, Plym and Tamar

 

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