Sea foam surrounded the crusted, salted dock;
Worn, worn from the aspirations of
Voyagers, family bonding and
Escapades of free spirits.
Tonight, the moon
Cast its silver shadow upon the
Quiet wooden boards.
They would creak quietly at the
Wind’s rocking lullaby,
A simple breath in the midnight air.

Pearl painted sails of the
Irishman’s boat shimmered proudly,
Outshining the moon itself.
His lips stretched into a smile;
Remembered his sons,
His wife,
His family --
It was their love that built his
Creation,
Though he had but one love.

Limbs in a trance, a soft creak,
A whisper of welcome from his masterpiece
And a soft giggle from the sea foam spreading into
Vast waters; majestic,
Glorious.
Eyelids close as he listens to the song of the rolling waves;
A steady rhythm that beckons him forward,
Yet reminds him of home.

Powered waters curl beneath the algae-claimed sides,
Frolic and smile beside it and a
Reminder of the barrier from harm.
A beauty. A beauty indeed.

Worn, worn out hands release caked rope and
Wind pulls him out into his home (The hospitality of the
Ocean is like no other.)

A raspy hum accompanies the Ocean’s song;

Tonight, it is new.