passport

Passport


Schiphol, Amsterdam 1964, the old seaman must
have carried his passport in his pocket for years, it
was a disgrace loose leaved I barely hung together,
immigration wouldn’t, at first let him through;

A higher up was called, he looked at the offending
passport, shook his head pursed his lips, but let him
pass through since he was joining a ship, but with
a warning to get a new one soon

The sailor was absent, his voyage began with a dram,
his mind was already onboard away from the cold
north, sailing passed the Azores, calm sea, he stood
on deck and saw the last seagull fly back to the coast