Foghorn
The salty sea mist is a ghost
which shrouds a hazy sky.
I cannot hide what pains me most.
Why did you have to die?
I hear a moan as all alone
I stand - windblown - chilled to the bone.
I hear a moan
a long lone moan -
the foghorn's lonesome monotone.
The great North Star is hid from view.
Like you - it's lost to me.
Somewhere beneath the ocean's blue,
my fate calls out to me.
I stand now weeping on this pier.
Oh, why can't you be with me here?
I taste each tear -
each bitter tear;
Then like North Star . . . I disappear.
June 28, 2020
for the 'STRAND COMPLETELY NEW(2) any theme any form' Poetry Contest
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