Poetry Map of Scotland, poem no. 225: Isle of Cumbrae

Home is a thousand miles away

Every time I dream of Cumbrae,
I’m at the ferry terminal
without a ticket and the clock
of St Columba’s shows ten past the hour.

I buy a ticket, but the hands
have moved on by five quick minutes
and the ferry has left, strict to the last,
every time I dream of Cumbrae.

 

Eilidh Barnes

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