I was walking along the harbour wall
And there she was before me,
Kitty was there,
But she did not look like the Kitty I knew,
The Kitty I knew from her poems.
This one was old and worn,
It had been around for so long.
Always going in and out,
Helping others to come the right way.
Its black bottom was weathered,
The ropes tying it up were slack,
Slack and worn,
Some heaped on top of her
Waiting to be used to tie her up,
Tie her up and trap her,
Trap her and pull her into herself,
And pull her towards others.
I continued walking and the thoughts came
I would never imagine Kitty in the same way,
Never imagine her in the same way again,
Despite the words that she wrote.