Not much has changed at Ye Yacht Yard over the years.

The shack has weathered well…

The collection of colorful buoys

Remains the backdrop for the same wood bench from decades past;

And the old, peeling paddles still hang under the eave

In the shack’s side rack.

No, not much has changed at Ye Yacht Yard

Since the days when Howard and Barbara Burr called it home.

They lost count of the number of boats they repaired and painted,

And the moorings they set in the Harbor,

Some remain where the Yard’s master left them – but sit rusted in the sand.

Sailors and landlubbers are still drawn

To this sliver of Southport lore.

Artists continue to paint its scenic coastline,

And sailors hoist their sails

For a day on the water…

While lobstermen still stack their pots on the dock,

And paddlers, their kayaks in the racks.

Time has been good to Ye Yacht Yard;

Where the flags fly from a staff,

Billowing in the wind, at land’s end.

As if signaling

A new generation to its port –

A place where time stands still,

And memories never cease to end.