There's a city the world's called 'The Pearl of the Coast'
since the days of parchment and quill
and those born to it, to good fortune still toast
it should be their luck - and God's will.
Its cobblestoned streets all trace its canals
and pastel hued buildings with shutters and spires
domed chapels of gold leaf, stained glass and great doors
town houses, interiors inspired.
When tourists draw near on the ferries that come,
year by year,
on and on,
The Pearl of the Coast seems to glitter and shine
as it has always, through epochs of time.
Though it's waters are rising,
continuously,
The Pearl of the Coast will be shelled by the sea -
it's buildings, their friezes and tapestries grow damp
and when stormy nights hit
water floods the banks.
Mould stains the walls where water rises on stone
and sometimes the streets seem canals of their own
- paint is eroding and rotting away,
The Pearl of the Coast loses lustre each day.
A time will come,
though not quite yet,
when the Pearl is gone
and people forget
for one cannot admire
what one cannot see
and a Pearl underwater
is all it will be.
Copyright Yafeu-Khamisi Rodway-Brown