The Rolling Seas
When the time arrives for me to depart
from the sunlit harbors of the living.
Take me aboard a navy fighting ship
and carry me back again to the sea.
Order the boatswain to construct a skid
made of wood and painted with fresh white paint.
Build it to hold a gray weighted coffin
draped by Old Glory with her stars and stripes.
Cruise the coast of my beloved home Whidbey
until full abreast with Ebey’s Landing.
Muster the funeral party astern
Play taps and slide me into the blue drink.
Let the storm-flecked waves of the rolling sea
take this old sailor to his final peace.
Copyright © Gary Jones | Year Posted 2007