In her dream Jean Timpson

Was sitting on a wall

Above a beach

She was topless

And wondered why

 

Market traders

Were approaching her

And discussing the colour red

 

In the distance she could see

An industrial plant

Polluting the sea the sky

And the land

 

She could see minute crabs

Playing rugby internationals

But never scoring

To their obvious distress

 

A musician handed her a camera

And asked her to capture his music

Which she did

Whilst riding a bike