Poem 105, 'Jilted', was the first of my efforts at expressing mental pictures aroused by different aspects of my friend, Margaret's print. Now I have rotated the art-work and the scene has changed.
The row-boat was where they had left it,
Beached by a rising tide.
By storms it was battered and broken,
An outcast, it lay on its side.
But the seagulls flew from the ocean
To wish it one last goodbye,
And the old boat rocked to the motion
Of sand and sea and sky.