Lonely Lighthouses
Eyes of light beams pierce ocean air
as Neptune rests within his lair.
Sentinels hand-made of stone,
that keepers used to call their home;
guide travelers, sailors on their way
a lovely sight both night and day.
Though today they’re automatic,
once someone ascended to their attic;
to turn on the light and keep it oiled
so harbor and bay had no wrecked spoils.
One’s orientation was not lost,
though about the seas ships were tossed.
For the Lubber’s lines worked their magic,
in preventing any shipwrecks, tragic.
Rough navigation the lighthouse soothed,
making for a landing smooth;
ships reached port abandoning fears,
when to the lighthouse they drew near.
So thank the gracious hand that built them,
for your cruise won’t end up grim.
Hoist that mainsail with great joy,
as light to night seas they employ.
These lonely specters in tribute stand
towering testaments to ingenuity of man.
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