On a day that’s dry and fair
There is this man, sits in a chair
He looks at ships and seagulls, too
And he might wonder what you do
You meet him often on your walk
Across the pier – there’s little talk

You cut your hair? He asks one day.
Oh no, just different style, you say
The next time round one needs a light
And asks him for it, he’s polite
He’s there so often watching things
That one gets used to meeting him

We both watch ships, and movement, too
Just from a different point of view
He sits there sheltered; I walk round
We both see things that will astound
Us only, noting subtle change
Me thinks, next time I’ll ask his name :-)