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