Dark, murky with a diseased unhealthy look
Watch the face of a bemused greying fisherman
As a grey slimy boot emerges dangling precariously on his long wiry hook

Watch the ball slowly gliding along the goo
All mysterious and completely carefree
Hoofed in by a child’s clumsy ***** shoe

A tyre tangled up in the reeds lair
And one can’t help wondering
What vehicle did it live on and where

Ducks swimming discussing the weather
They quarrel and fight then run along
Squatting lazily underneath trees and broken heather

In the estates and the towns of smoke
Into the water with their sticks
The kids excitedly poke

On a bridge a gent walks his shaggy dog
He watches the grey clouds
That mingle amongst rainy fog

Rippled water like a shirt not ironed and awkwardly creased
And under its depths
Hide ghosts of the past and of the deceased