The steel gray ocean pounds the shore,
it strikes a somber, morbid chord,
I sit becalmed now, by the roar,
on the porch of weathered boards.
I reminisce on times before,
when life was mine, an open door,
I lift my eyes, to God implore,
every muscle, sinew sore.
The pain cuts through me like a sword,
I've lost my touch, my sharp rapport,
I've prayed my health could be restored,
caress the bullets, smooth, large bored.
No seaside silence anymore,
death is final, evermore,
full metal jackets do the chore,
memories flood, a cold downpour,
Crisp white eyelet pinafores.
southern pines and sycamores,
endless secrets to explore,
a child again, forevermore.
Copyright © Danielle White