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.
For instructions on how to submit your own poems, click here
All poems from our Poetry Map of Scotland are subject to copyright and should not be reproduced otherwise without the poet's permission.