The Smugglers Wife
A poem inspired by Whitby Gin's connection to the towns rich history
Minutes creep on, centuries flash by
over silver seas, under blue moon sky.
A ship in the distance, with a whale heart
left its barred treasure before it’s depart.
A single, frail yet eager rowboat
steadied on the sand no longer afloat.
A shadow in blue and grey apron
ran down cobbles easily mistaken.
Touched her palm on his boat, feet on the sand
a bag of junipers placed into her hand.
The smugglers wife full of resource and tricks
got her final ingredient for her gin mix