Stories on the Tide
I stand stock still on this old weathered pier,
looking seaward, I intently listen.
There is a calmness that allays my fear
as the rolling tide gurgles and glistens.
The mysteries of the ocean give so few clues
to the glories and disasters it’s shared.
This barnacled vantagepoint I now choose
was a jumping off point for many that dared.
The bravery of seafaring adventurers rides the breeze,
enveloping me with a disconcerting chill.
Ghost ships still flounder on the brine of fickle seas
as the albatross signals warnings of ill will.
Me, I’ve never cast off a line to set sail into the blue,
never written one entry into the ship’s log.
Leaning against this stanchion will just have to do
for this land lubber to assimilate the heart of a sea dog.
I love the ocean with its white caps and swells,
it intrigues me deeply but does not pull me forth.
Vicariously I live it through stories they’ll tell
of fighting raw elements for all they were worth.
Yes, I stand here looking out on the horizon,
picturing the sailors that have trimmed many a sail.
The Captain treasuring charts and the sextant he relies on
prays to Poseidon that he encounters no contemptuous gale.
Someone once wrote “Take me down to the sea in ships”,
his wanderlust could only thusly be sated.
These sentiments fill my mind but never visit my lips
for I fear the perfect storm would surely be fated.
The sea mist has dampened the clothes that I wear
and the salt taste lies heavily on my tongue.
I salute all those in Davy Jones’ locker somewhere
who heard all the songs the sirens have sung.
Submitted for the Pick Your Theme challenge
Theme: Listening to the stories on the tide
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