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Poetry: The Man on the Shore
The Man on the Shore. On the beach, alone, stood a man,He desired no surf, desired no tan, He was there for a reason, that much he knew,Yet he stood there for hours, as the wind blew, How long he had been there, he mind couldn’t tell,His longing for an answer, his memories could not quell, There in his hand, was something he’d planned,A ticket for a ship, to carry him from the sand, Yet there, on the horizon, that boat sailed away,His reason for leaving, now forced him to stay, He had spent all of his savings for the ticket he held, Yet, as he watched, his hope for escape, silently sailed, Why didn’t he go, only his wounded soul should know, The hands which brought joy, know dealt a death blow, The water, his barrier from peace, was a deep and dark blue,Yet, his demeanors shade, stayed a much deeper hue, He realized then, why he had forgone the ship and it’s crew,The pass in his hand, was a ticket, meant for two. |
