Green sea-tarnished copper
And sea-tarnished gold
Of cupolas.
Sea-runnelled streets
Channelled by salt air
That wears the white stone.
The sunlight-filled cistern
Of a dry-dock. Square shadows.
Sun-slatted smoke above meticulous stooping of cranes.
Water pressed up by ships’ prows
Going, coming.
City dust turned
Back by the sea-wind’s
Wall.
Submitted by Stephen Fryer
✅ Do you like the article “Seaport” by A. S. J. Tessimond on Poemfull.com? If so, don't forget to share this post with your friends and family ♡ !
