Isolated,
an island out-
post hosting a
beacon bright;
scanning the night,
offering sight
scanning the night,
offering sight
to wayward
wayfarers.
wayfarers.
He stands on
watch, keeping
the lamp sweep-
ing the water.Buoys
bob in the darkness,
harkening the bells
harkening the bells
with the swell of each
wave. Deep bellow-
ing horns cut the evening
fog, leaving a long echo
from harbor to shore. A
solitary ex-sailor never fails
to offer security; a sentinel
sure and silent. Alone in the night, a beacon bright.
Walt
The lighthouses along Lake Huron have led me to write poems, too!
ReplyDeleteSo right, "beacons bright"!
Good stuff, PArtner! When Keith and I are out on the lake, I sometimes like to stare at the lighthouse, and imagine what it would be like live in one.
ReplyDeleteM.E.
Same imaginings here. And yes that is correct...55! I recieved a similar bump over at "Poet's Heart". It's good the be the king!
ReplyDelete