In A Former Life

Waiting for fish and chips, a holiday treat and, by the sea, in family folklore supposedly the best. Fishing boats line the harbour walls, sea fishing along the shore, seagulls hoping for easy gains, a trawler heading out to sea, sun setting.

Of all the activity, what attracts me is an old boat, shored up across the road from the water, paint peeling, bits of rope, surrounded by weeds, rusty rudder, no name showing.

The layers revealing its past incarnations, depicting each new beginning, perhaps new owners making their mark, born of dreams of fresh adventures and a life on the ocean. Perhaps echoes of my own state of mind.