I’m feeling poetic today.
The Old Sea Dog
The old sea dog reflects on happier times;
As the spume-tipped waves crash to the shore;
He recalls far lands and warmer climes;
And yearns to venture out to sea once more.
The clink of cider mugs from *Benbow’s Drum
Are joined by the song of the unrequited sea.
The fishermen land their catch as he sips his rum
And recalls how good it was to be free.
Stretched ’fore a trade wind, the canvas strained,
The spars creaked with the rolling motion;
Upon the quarterdeck he remained;
Braced ’gainst the swell o’ the undulating ocean.
The dog-watch sun low off the starboard beam;
As south they headed along Africa’s shore;
The warm wind in his face now but a dream;
These are the places he’ll see no more.
Somewhere in the south China seas;
He cast aside her golden band;
Her voice hangs soft on the gentle sea breeze;
As he draws her name in the Cornish sand.
A clipper drifts in to the waiting quay;
Her sails furling as she comes alongside.
Her hold stuffed with India tea;
As she rides the evening tide.
And the old sea dog looks with a tear in his eye;
He longs to feel ’neath his feet that rolling motion;
In his face, the salty spume, a gentle sigh;
As he braces ’gainst the swell o’ the undulating ocean.
©Longrider, 2006
*hat tip to RLS
Nice 8)