Old Rocks Nested in Outcrops
Between rocks, you can see
The millennium bridge, swaying
Gently over the lost land
Carved out by erosion, my side
Crinkles under the strain. Salted
Decaying, masonry muscles
Over centuries they came
In search of a king, a miracle man
Draped in the dye of shellfish
A deep blue crushed on ships
Sailed through the gates, from a sea
Almost landlocked, to gift tin
The mines are closed now, never
Leaden by labour more than then
When we were asked to take
Byzantine gifts laid claim to trade,
Routes through which we came east
On the wind of emperors, dwindling
The ruins of a myth, a promontory
A bear was not born here, ‘Artur’
King of ocean storms, of mist
Forgive me, I am a literal-ist
Broken down by granite blocks
With little space for epic tales
Yet here we stand, masonry
Perched on a cliff, signal posts for
Missing links spanned by a bridge
