Clawed fingers scrabbled awkwardly,
For cigarettes and a lighter.
And arthritic limbs made climbing,
To the dinghy a painful task.
But still, once seated on the thwart.
Old skills reasserted, and he could row,
The little craft, his back surprisingly supple.
But his mind, not always what it was.
“What if there’s fog?” they asked.
“Or the tide race at the ebb.
Two hours after high?
Might he not get swept and taken out to sea?”
Might he not? Yet he,
Who knew the harbour and the tides,
Better than he knew the backs,
Of his own two calloused hands,
Had to go with them to the home.
“It’s for the best.” They pointed out.
You will not always be quite safe.
On pontoon slippery with wet and mud.
Where ropes and bits and pieces,
Of yachtsmen’s discarded gear,
Lie in wait for unwary feet of,
Sailors long grown old.
How will you find your way?
Your houseboat’s moored out near the channel.
Not tied up safely to the wall.
What if you lose your way; go south,
Instead of north, or fall in and drown?
Slow lingering death with muscles,
Sagged and cramped, no longer used.
No challenge to keep the mind alert.
To find its way from pontoon and to the pub.
And back again through wind and mist and rain.
“Anyway,” they said, “your boat needs painting.”
“And it smells.” And not just the bilges either.”
“As for cooking, it’s downright dangerous.
With paraffin and matches.
You could easily go up in smoke.”
“What if you’ve had a drop too much?”
“You could easily fall between the jetty and the boat.”
“What if you put your feet into the mud?”
“It clings, you’ld stick and sink.”
“It’s not an easy way to die, out there alone and in the cold.”
“He’s late tonight. Maybe the old Basket’s,
Lost his way. We’d better look.”
“Maybe he’s fallen down and can’t get up.”
They stir upon the stools and stop
The click of dominoes and thump of darts.
“Of course he’s late.” The fire’s bright glow
Reflected from the bottles with rainbow coloured lights.
In barroom cosy, where one says.
“Didn’t you know? They took him away today.
Won’t be coming back no more. Couldn’t look after ‘isself proper.”