Strolling the Bridge

Night in the Persian Gulf can be rather eerie When one steams along the coasts, there are bizarre sights Giant spires spouting lofty infernos so fiery It's as if I sail the shores of hell on these nights The seas part before me in phosphorescent curl Menacing gun boats prowl the watery darkness In the masts, shifting albatross silently whirl Strolling the bridge, my coffee cup provides me warmth My mind occupied by sweet my girl back at home Counting the days until I return to her smile My thoughts return to a light in the ocean foam I raise my glasses and judge its distance a mile I report the unknown contact down to combat Thoughts returning to her, in the grass we both sat © Copyrights G. Jones 2008