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The lighthouse shivered in relentless gales on its rocky foundation Stood the test of time but now it seemed that the clock had gone back The keeper was sidelined to retire in the Sea Mission’s Nursing Abode Had paid his fare and was reduced to cups of tea and mushy pea’s gruel Once a pacemaker of modernity he quietly waited for dementia to settle His heart was broken like the tower’s shattered beacon and Oliver sobbed Tears flooded his kerchief with salty reminders of his ultimate companion Waves of infinite tides swallowed his reason for being in cascades of pain Cataracts pointed him inside with hearing aids hinged on precarious sight The fragile walking stick had been bestowed by the Queen God knows when At least that was his yarn which would not repair his threadbare cardigan The callus on his weather worn hand had meta-morphed in soft baby skin Be a good boy now and take your sedative pills they will rock you to sleep Slowly fog horns of destiny sounded a creaky lullaby of reticent surrender Once a trendsetter in dashing uniform and seafarer’s wind shaken attire He could not even turn a famous blind eye to his room mate’s flatulence But like clamshell lenses on a leap water catwalk he stood firm in defeat Oliver’s lantern seemed vacant but a passionate fire kept raging his mind Had they no respect for history had he not been the guardian of passage Was he a spiral staircase with only one way to stumble on rusty descent The counterweight well powered by gravity sunk like an anchor cut loose Lightening rods flashed through his thoughts and he still could not sleep But the night nurse had more important matters than ancient emotions Pillows scratched his receding hair as the moon kept count of lost slumber Once a bell whether of transit the old man felt the graveyard shift nigh He wished he was a pirate and would sink his hook into pitiless crests 11th February 2020
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