Written By the Atlantic

Sitting here beside the ocean
Penning thoughts as they occur;
Sun and waves in constant motion.

With the drink that I prefer;
Boats, slow moving, in the distance,
Captain, mate, and passenger

Of my fancy’s churning pistons,
Turning out another piece;
Egrets, herons as assistants.

Written by the calming seas:
Yet, I know, by when you read this,
Mem’ries of this winter breeze

Will have gone. What will succeed this,
I don’t know, but I’ll be home then.
But for now, I’m glad: I need this.

Ocean light is no ill-omen:
I’m so grateful to be here,
That my wife and I
Are here

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