Call of the Sea
At night I hear its call and sigh,Its combers thrashing in the bay,
I mark the polar star on high,
And know that here I cannot stay.
My old legs ache for storms that brew
When clouds obscure bright Capricorn,
I long to be beside my crew,
While fighting currents round Cape Horn.
I leave my winter seaside bed,
Within this cottage I call home,
Again I see the age old dead
File there before me made of foam.
To feel the deck beneath my feet,
The cold and icy, briny air,
Ah, such would make a man complete,
The perfect balm for my despair.
Oh, how I ache to hear the bells
Tolled by the mate who stands by me,
As we pitch to the rolling swells,
There hard aport, far out at sea.
Now at my window I can mark,
Bayside, a ship that's glowing, pale,
She stands out boldly in the dark,
As heavenward I watch her sail.
Poetry by Achernar
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Written on 2009-09-03 at 17:01
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