Thursday, January 1, 2015

The pirate of Ocean Grove

Thursday, January 01, 2015

I come to the end of the walkway
To the edge of the sea
Where the old pirate sat
The way all things go
When the sea calls them home,
Gone like the pack
Of stuffed animals from
The boardwalk memorial
For some long gone person
Who I know nothing of,
Cheerful faces to mark
A less than cheerful passing,
The frog gone first
And then the other two,
And now the pirate
That had clung to this remote
Edge of Ocean Grove
As if to the edge of the world
Why he vanished less important
Than his going,
Though I’d like to believe
Some ship came to collect him
As we all must be collected
When our time comes,
His job done
Telling us where reality ends
And beckoning us
To step off the land
We so cling to
To discover something more
Beyond the usual boundaries
Of our otherwise mundane lives
He, sailing into eternity,
With sails fully inflated

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