To be a small boat putting by
Through inner harbor’s gait,
Would be like worker bees ashore
Minding to the hive.
And when nighttime should come at last
Finding a dock to rest,
One could only hope to find
Night life to pass the time.
For if my lonely soul could cry,
A sputtering on I would go,
To and fro, back and forth
A small boat amidst the sea.
Tag: dock
Summer Camp (day 1905)
Summer camp is building up
Splashing heard all day
Toadstool hunts and little bugs
Campfire wood, evermore.
“Cannonball” yelled at every chance
Footsteps on the dock
Drying towel potato salad
Midnight on the run!
But lazily as a summer bee
All fun will come to end
Like worker ants in a line
Arrows shall be carried home.
Lagoon (day 1068)
I was escaping a tear drop I had left beside the bed:
Tears of mixed emotions, like a fleeting moonlit night.
Stuck there; family man and the rock and roll band.
Jesus and his long haired hippies that didn’t wash their hands.
I played a mouth organ as I whispered at swans
Floating by the dock of this lost lagoon
Where my nimbly toes wash cotton balls free like fresh sheets.
I didn’t even turn around to that old familiar sound,
Lost in a pool of choreographed love letters
I’d heard in a song driving fast and straight down Paradise Road.
The things we used to do, the life I used to live.
An old loon used to sing the sun to sleep here every night.