The Dreaming of Liverpool

And those bruises that blossomed like roses

And those wishes that died on the vine

All here in the shadows that cling to

The promise of water and wine



And day is for fishers of wisdom

Whose yoke is the burden of proof

But night is for fishers of freedom

Whose light takes its source from the truth



And lightning has no sweeter kisses

And thunder has no purer rage

And the world with its rocks and its fashions

Could not build a more dishonest stage



Rolled up in the waves without mercy

Thrown out to the sea without thought

Held fast and then flung to the ocean

But willingly, willingly caught



Liverpool home to my dreaming

Liverpool home to my heart

From the stones of your roads I have wandered

But never did I once depart.

By Sharon Marshall