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poet707747


 Salt in me Blood

This summer, I was walking along the fishing docks
Of a picturesque New England fishing village.
The breathtaking beauty calls out to me
From somewhere within the depths of my soul.
I see an old man, a very old man, indeed,
Sitting on a railing on a nearby pier, just looking…
I move closer, seeing his eyes searching out to  sea.
Standing beside him, I continue to watch him;
He doesn't seem to be aware of my presence.
Clearing my throat, trying to gain his attention;
He sits stone faced, but I notice his longing eyes.
I speak…
"Pardon me, Sir, but may I ask what you are looking for?"
He never moves his head, but in a hard voice he speaks.

"I'm lookin' fer me mates, t'ey ner' returned from t'e sea;
Good sailors t'ey were, boy, good sailors t'ey were.
T'ese ole bones of mine ache to be at sea, boy,  t'ey ache;
Me hurt sittin' here on t'is dock o' wood, feelin' old and lonely.
Fer t'ese were me mates, boy,  an God me's miss t'e ship;
But t'ey won'  take an ole man like me, no t'ey won'  take me.
T'ey says, Mate, you earned yer rest, relax an' enjoy;
Drink some whiskey, dance, enjoy t'e company of t'e ladies.
Well, boy… me drinks some whiskey, lots of it, an' some rum;
But dancin', how can me be dancin' when me gots no joy?
And me's eighty somthin' now, no need fer a girl.
Me jus' wants to be at sea, mist in me face, wind in me hair;
Sittin' here on t'e land makes me feel all dead.
T'ey t'e lucky ones, boy, died doin' what t'ey loved;
T'ey t'e lucky ones, boy.
Fer me gots salt in me blood, boy, me gots salt in me blood."

5Sep10

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The sea calls, and I listen.


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