October 2018
The Sailor's Song
by J.W. Bebout
To stand upon a heaving deck is much to be desired,
But moored I am by muscles stretched, my body worn and tired.
T h e novel is writ , the ending known , the tide at neap or lower ,
T ears of frustration stain weather e d skin and rail at fading power.
I left my youth on sunny shores and islands in the sea ,
And memories rise on stiffening breeze calling out to me.
But memories will not hoist a sail nor find a guiding star,
So h ere I stand upon the shore, no more to wander far.
E very y ear that’s passed made less and less of me ,
My heart was given to brown - eyed girls, my tears became the sea.
My corpse has faded, trans parent now, unseen by passers - by ,
I walk alone upon the jetty, the final journey nigh.
Terns laugh and curse at me, whilst they spiral across the sky .
What would they have me do, I wonder, as I but journey by?
Are we not all travelers together upon this grain of sand?
And will we not all meet again in some diaphanous land?
A child’s tale, perhaps, to hope for more than what you see,
And what could be better , anyway , th a n to sail upon the sea?