Sunday, December 06, 2015

I Rested, a poem

I Rested

For a time, I rested
on unknown coasts;
there a port lies hidden
between the arms of the mountains,
reaching like a lover
toward the uncaring sea.

Hear the songs calling,
plaintive in the streets
of night, in the dark cantinas
where sailors forget their ships.
It is I they call.
It is I who yearns.

The journey from me to you
began where another ended,
where tides rise and fall
unnoted. It is the way
of quests and dreams to fade so,
one into another.

Hear the sea calling;
I am timbers and sails,
straining to know the wind.
It tells of other ports;
it speaks of other coasts.
For a time, I rested.

Stephen Brooke ©2015

an old topic for me, revisited once again -- as ever, pretty first draft-ish

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