If walls could speak

of sad tales of orphans and delinquent girls lost

of convicts with gunpowder, quarrying stone

and prison views across the bay

They’d speak of Ship Builders and Joiners’ shops

and of utter isolation and decay.

Of dark light pushing through

…of lonely gulls waiting for a mate

they’d echo broken spirits and endless summer days

followed by desolate nights.

They’d tell of tattered hearts amongst navy ships and dark shadows

… and of walls…
walls of sandstone
walls of brick
walls of iron 
walls of wood.