One of my first mature poems was called
The Darkness of Arthur Rimbaud
It dealt with his time in Africa
Long after he had given up writing poetry
Sadly I lost this early work during a move
Between two residences in Ramsgate
I often think that I might find this poem
Completely by chance when visiting Ramsgate
Still in its plastic green folder and slightly aged
The sea was green blue during its early days
Is the only line that I can remember clearly
The white ships always pass but never visit this port
I only have a vague memory of this line