The docks,cold in the northern wind.
I look out to sea,a lone fishing boat
returns to the quay.
Surrounded by a flock of squabbling gulls
like excited children
waiting for a party.
They swoop and soar
dive and dart
like victorious warriors after spoil.
A feast for free.
So many copy their style
in a world of "I want" and "I deserve".
Taking the plunder,wolf-like,ravenous.
What is left,what remains is injustice
and despair.A desperation that binds itself
to the culture,inseparable untill
the fabric b r e a k s and
the last remnant of hope
leaves on the final tide.