Heart of the Storm, or a Captain’s Tale: I A Pacific Morning

This poem is the first part of a three part story. Follow the blog to know right away when the second and third parts are published. 


 

I  A Pacific Morning

The sky a sapphire blue and the sea, emerald green

together, tangled seamlessly in the horizon

a tired old figure seated upon a rocking chair

swaying back and forth like the ships of the harbor

warm and gentle winds disturbing the sails, playfully so

playing with the gray wisps of hair still lingering

a low mist, like the veil of a bride hangs over the bay

a song, a whisper, a soft call through the mist:

waves washing to the shore, caressing the rocks,

teasing my ebbing mind and calling for me

sapphire blue and emerald green, a glint of darkness

a perfect mixture disturbed, a piercing breeze

reaching the balcony, my aged bones shivering

a subtle smile not for anything, a memory

sharp and smiling eyes, the stilled horizon

a storm approaching, of that there is no doubt

twilight gathering in the distance, not unlike then,

that day, a lucid vision from a lifetime ago.

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