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Deckchairs

Along the seafront, chairs are packed away,

            Tied down under green tarpaulin sheets

            Or stacked in caverns, underneath our feet,

Awaiting the return of warmer days.

Is it just a story that, as it sank,

            The hands on the Titanic moved the chairs

            While the band played hymns, all quite aware

There was no hope for those of lower rank?

Would I have had the courage in their place

            To follow through wherever it might lead,

            Accepting death that others might not bleed

With quiet mind and unassuming grace?

Brian Hick November 2011

©copyright Sally Hick 8.12.23