Posted by: Ron DuBour | March 14, 2016

Old Man and the Sea~by Norman Wilson



Old Man and the Sea

There was an orange sunset just lingering about
In the blackest still of everlasting night
Gently sweeping, so gently caressing
Then suckling the waters under a brooding moonlight

An illuminating mooring post stood all alone
Swaddled and bound in a knotted rope
In a cove transforming the waters into a misty sea blue
In a breath taking night of an old man’s lost hope

An emergence of sand crabs vacillated on the beach
Below a yawning rolling simmering tide
Scrambling in a frolic, neither hither to go
Racing to roam for a place to hide in Lynda’s Cove

There was an old angler with a trodden jaded cap
With a fishing pole rested loosely next to his lap
As he sat in the windmills of a looping part of his past
For a flirtatious love that was never meant to last

He cradled his thoughts below a burst of night stars
Burning intensely in his pondering eyes
Pinching upon the whys of a love affair that died
Under a ginger coloured streaking sky

He tossed and pitched with rod in hand
Tempered below an eve of dipping orange and grey
Where all his old hopes quickly faded fast
In a swirl of old passions, which crumbled in decay

Drifting alone, spellbound by the rocking sea breeze
On an encroaching dawn, beckoning to see a new light
As he views his age mirrored in reflections of past
On the tranquil tides of waters capped in white

He no longer now feels the special allure
Of dragon skies and rolling blue sea
That deprived him of a life of possible happiness
For a woman’s laughter, that could never be

All rights reserved 03/08/16
Norman Francis

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