The Old Lock Gate..
Walking along the waterside..
I watch the Barges pass...
Sedate and slow, I see them go..
a fall-back to the Past.
Ripples on the water...
As these boats cut through the stream...
And settling, like a looking glass..
Still waters now serene..
The old Lock Keeper's cottage..
Sentinel through years gone by,
has seen so many barges pass..
Before its watchful eye..
Just up ahead, the old Lock Gate,
so I stop to rest awhile...
And watch the Barges settle,
hear the laughter, see the smiles...
Water levels dropping,
as the barge waits patiently..
Slips inside the sluice gates,
till its onward journey free..
This form of transportation,
since Victorian times to date..
Now is just a form of pleasure,
passing through the old Lock Gate.
Copyright Photographic Image/Poem Beverley Borresen. July 2011
I watch the Barges pass...
Sedate and slow, I see them go..
a fall-back to the Past.
Ripples on the water...
As these boats cut through the stream...
And settling, like a looking glass..
Still waters now serene..
The old Lock Keeper's cottage..
Sentinel through years gone by,
has seen so many barges pass..
Before its watchful eye..
Just up ahead, the old Lock Gate,
so I stop to rest awhile...
And watch the Barges settle,
hear the laughter, see the smiles...
Water levels dropping,
as the barge waits patiently..
Slips inside the sluice gates,
till its onward journey free..
This form of transportation,
since Victorian times to date..
Now is just a form of pleasure,
passing through the old Lock Gate.
Copyright Photographic Image/Poem Beverley Borresen. July 2011