Cargoes of Childhood
The world was young in mystery
The Winnebah breezes blew in song
No child would bring cargo to Tema Harbour
Or steer her ship by that violent shore
And once the green Dalmatian coast
The bandit Macedonian hills
Were the boundary lines of my poetry
Horizons of my careless dreams
But adhesive stamps from the Gold Coast
Malagasy, Bechuanaland
Stuck to my fingers, my first satchel
And each succeeding travel bag
The kings of Siam and Samarkand
And caravans that knew their names
Caught my ears, riding underground
To school by the dark, unyielding Thames.
poem by Frank Bana
Added by Poetry Lover
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