Home To the Ocean
sonnet
While dreaming of my childhood ocean ties,
mem'ry's chandelier sheds light, somewhat eclipsed.
The essence of the salt still stings my eyes;
the rusty taste of iron hangs on my lips.
The ocean’s fragrant spray not quite so fair
as I recall; it makes me think of death.
Many a moon has set since I was there;
destiny speaks to me - my own last breath.
The ocean’s soft waves bring dulcet mem’ries,
gran-mama’s silk scarf brushing ‘gainst my face.
Turbulent storms always left me on my knees
under safe precipice back of our place.
It is there my dreams rest as I stand by;
it’s there I shall be buried when I die.
written January 29, 2013
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