Tall Ships Race.

Commisioned, as I am, to write a rhyme By one who sailed with Tall Ships in his time, I see with child's eye, come the thrilling day, As folk appear from far and near in close array To watch the Tall Ships sail off from the bay. Squatting family columns sit astride each patch Of nearly dry, but coveteous space of coastline grass To catch the rare-seen vista of large vessels as they pass. Wide-eyed, up-turned, ice-cream smiling faces Cheer, as Herculean riggings start their paces Of un-furling sail, and suddenly, with graces Fit for ballroom, gliding gentle through the glassy sea White billowy gowns appear, which, sunlit, seem to be Transforming all small boats, hot with hasty knots, Into bath-time bobbing toys which each giant quietly mocks, As silently retreating, they leave behind the docks. Liquid blue, their watery bed rocks the monsters far away. White-winging into hazy mist, invaders of a previous day. But we agree there's never been such spectacle before. Even, in the year of nineteen seventy four, So Grandad says, when he had, for sure, Taken part himself in Tall Ship races way back then. He had known he proudly says some very brave seamen Who now through unrelentless age would never sail again. So now they're gone, it's home in setting sun to bed, Sauntering on we try to keep the vision in our head. Collect up togs and dogs, give help with laden pram, Hold tight to hands, but keep an eye on sleepy Gran. Steering clear of beery tents or chip smells from the van. Next time Tall Ships come I may be old but I'll not miss Another chance of seeing such a sight as this.