By

James Bredin

I knew by the way he said it that he was quite proud,

“St Louis Missouri,” he said so out loud,

And the priest nodded as if we should all agree,

I nodded too and that made all of us three.

Conversation fifty years ago, I can’t remember,

In New York one evening in late September,

Rockefeller Square I think but why was I there?

Off a Canadian ship tied up in the docks somewhere.

Can’t wind back the clock to find what it was about,

The other, an American sailor had no doubt,

Maybe he and the priest had more faith than me,

St Louis Missouri, two people and doubtful me.

Monday, November 7, 2005

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