Back-To-Back in Tintagel

Arthur may not have resided here
But gull-cries still drift on the wind.
The village may be one large souvenir
But the legend's still roaming within.

The ladies may once have ready poetry here -
So here, some small verse carries on.
The shuffling samples of countries pass near -
Did Guinevere share verse in the sun?

The silence o'er Castle Tintagel
Belongs now to insects and wort -
Shared with man in slim fragments
Of History, nature gives briefly her thoughts.

My home town, Northampton - A reminder
How small it's become - see Londinium
In History's vast map you may find us
With Cromwell's defeat - no longer belong.

We sit back-to-back in Tintagel
On a slate-wall, facing over the shore.
Briefly, and quietly, we're thankful -
For our own punished history's no more.