February Thirteenth
February Thirteenth


The bright moon,
Didn’t show itself tonight,
A sliver
Of silver,
Wavering waning pale light,
The slight moon.

On ramparts,
The mist comes rolling outward,
Across Bay,
And his way,
Swirls round them coming inward,
His homeport.

Riding high,
Cargo traded filled pockets,
With money,
Memory,
Love with a silver locket,
Docking high.

In Stepping,
A noisy pub, a cool brew,
A ship found,
Outward bound,
He leaves them with morning new,
Out stepping.

All the shops,
Opening to misty morn,
Things to try
Things to buy,
And soon new clothes to be worn,
All the shops.

Coming home,
Little sister comes running,
With stories,
Histories,
Of what everyone’s doing,
Who’s alone.
Without home,
Telling all that’s worth saying.
From pocket
Gives locket
And away she goes bouncing.
Brother’s home.

February Fourteenth

Up the hill,
In and Passed the flower shop,
Between rows
Path he knows,
Before white marble he’ll stop,
Laying down
On the ground,
The white roses he did bring,
peaks softly
And slowly,
Of his comings and goings,
Down the hill.

A new ship
Heavy and deep she did ride,
A far go
With cargo,
To the big worlds other side,
A new trip.

Back on land,
Amidst the headstones that stand,
Another,
Her brother,
Caresses cold stone, cold hand,
Marks short time,
Just one line,
Tells everything of her life
had lived for,
He gave her,
She was a “devoted wife”,
He’s at sea.

Fragile she,
Sickly most of her few days,
T’was her joy,
From the boy,
Who traveled the high sea ways,
His glories,
And stories,
Put light of stars in her eyes,
Her darkness,
Then lightness,
When his adventures do fly,
Strengthens she.

Her Brother,
Lost in the shadows of gray,
All alone.
Her lover
Awash in the ocean spray,
Sea’s his home.

Her spirit
Sails in the wide ocean waves;
And still walks
In the shadows of the days.


Gloom 99

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