I watch you from a distance
As you sail passing my harbour
You beck the buried experience
Of what I once held dear.
The craft you steer, familiar but
foreign
My inert passion silently surfaces
As your prow suggests my direction
I stand here and crave your graces.
Many a ship a visit paid this port
Bade them I, as I manned this pier
Stay I my hand, though my soul be rot
At my harbour there lies a charter.
Safe to sea, my silent prayer to thee
Sail on, move on, navigate the world
Search for yourself a harbour pretty
Set the anchor, disembark and revere.
Lambert
(29/07/2003)
Note: there are times when memories beckon ... no pangs of regret but more of wishful thinking ...
