Set back from the River Thames,
Not far from the bustling King’s Road,
There is a tranquil marina,
Nestled within Chelsea Harbour.
It’s like a boating lake for the wealthy,
With luxury yachts and wooden craft,
Reflecting elegantly on rippled water.
It’s peaceful here in late afternoon;
On deck, a man and his Golden Labrador,
Enjoy the last blast of early summer sunshine,
Two girls, sat on a low wooden walkway,
Dangle their bare feet in the shadowy water.
Vessels creek and rattle in the breeze,
While flags flutter gently above ornate lanterns,
Tall chimneys from a derelict warehouse,
Contrast with pristine-white apartment blocks
That boast balcony views and lavish lifestyles.
The 20-or-so storey Belvedere building,
Looms above the lock, and river beyond,
Where the BT Tower and Centre Point,
Stand out on London’s hazy skyline.
And on a bright white bench overlooking the marina,
A discarded paper and empty fag packet,
Are all that tarnish this little piece of paradise.