My Cornish Haven.

On waters calm beneath an azure sky

white fluffy clouds like cotton wool drift by.

Gentle ripples, soft by zephyrs blown

lap quiet against these ancient time-worn stones.

Here rests the fleet in harbour safe,

here ropes and hawsers groan and chafe.

Calmly now, they bouyant ride,

with creaks and murmurs on the tide.

-----------------------------------------------------

Above the harbour spreads the town;

its streets of cobblestones wind down

then struggle in haphazard ways

across the hill above the bay.

White-washed houses roofed with slate,

mullioned windows, painted gates,

whilst window boxes bright with flowers

add colours bright in fragrant showers.

----------------------------------------------------

Above the lighthouse, seagulls mew,

they wheel and turn in skies of blue.

Children play on golden sands

building castles strong and grand,

decked with seaweed, stones and shells,

invincible to ocean swells,

with moats and drawbridge, towers and keeps;

where knights of old and dragons sleep.

---------------------------------------------------

Old sailors stump down cobbled streets,

their seaboots ancient tempos beat

that make us think of Nelson, Drake,

when French and Spanish seamen quaked.

Of Spanish Main, and treasure trove;

of smuggler's boats in darkened coves.

When Old Britannia rules the waves;

When men were men, both bold and brave.

----------------------------------------------------

This town shall mine forever be;

this Cornish village by the sea.

Its beauty, quaint and picturesque

to me shall never cause distress,

just memories of happy hours,

of golden beaches, fragrant flowers.

No other folk this place can find -

It's locked forever in my mind.