'CADGWITH COVE INN' A POEM ABOUT CORNWALL...

Cadgwith Cove Inn

Narrow lane squeezed vehicles 

Into crude passing places,

Steeply

Down to dog-leg bend, left

And slipway

And Todden.

Dark lane squirmed its route

Into silent, unlit blackness,

Steeply

Down to hidden lights, left

And Inn,

And modern.

Random, spooky, beached craft

Parked like family cars,

Bleakly

Outside well-established cottages,

Buffeted,

Wind-torn.

Silhouetted, shadowy, resident apparitions

Slipped like returning ghosts,

Bleakly

Inside welcoming, quaint Inn,

Weathered,

Life-worn.

Pete Ray

February 2007

Cadgwith was still in World War 2 blackout mode and a torch was an evening walk’s essential. 

A boat was parked outside a dwelling. Birmingham this was not…