Gaze Fixed Out To Sea
I wish to die
By the Teak rail
Of a salt weathered deck
A poetic death you see…
Wrap’t snug as a bug
Warm woolen shawl round my neck
With my ol’ grizzled dog at my knee
I’d like to be found
Eyes wide open and round
In a rocker of wicker
Gazing out to sea.
What better a death
An ol’ poet’s last breath
Could there possibly
…and poetically be?…
Copyright © David O'Haolin Whalen | Year Posted 2014
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