Old Marine Hulk, a poem.

Old marine hulk, anchored ashore, proud relic of its glorious high sea adventure days

Settled both in salt water and open air, sea creatures, birds new dwellings there, folklore

Remoulded gently by nature, purposes beyond original design, declining not yet terminal,

Peacefully resting by harbour walls, but not fully immune from Atlantic furious tempests

Ribs exposed, rusting remains, warped timbers, faint echoes of a warning bell, all hands

Paint peeling, barnacled rude bottom exposed, slumbering, tired, retired, not expired

Non shirking, all perils faced, never lacking in courage, keeping crew safe, good old girl

Loved by all, honoured in numbered years, will never be broken up for parts, reposed..

Worthy beyond its so called sell by date, allowed space to be re-inventive, no disincentive

Old model now remodelled for uses unforeseen at birth, commercial pressures no longer

Destined not to be thrown on the scrapheap, allowed time to watch young boats busying

Resting space is well earned, fading beauty, old craftsmen skills, bare bones exposed

Respected and recognised for years of faithful, selfless service to others. No fatalities.

Graceful settling, elements gently returning to nature, rightful place with own community