Like a wizened old man's finger my water does bend

I feel hidden; surrounded but buildings and trees

I may be murky; a vision of muddied water 

But I was once business life’s blood, an aorta

Sometimes I feel ignored by you in a changing world

My skin, occasionally massaged by gentle breeze

Then outrageous joy as a canal boat ploughs up my spine

I may be old and dreamy; in my forgotten state

But I still dream of developers before it'd too late