Child of the Sea
Rocked in the Arms of the Sea
The swoosh of the tides upon the sand,
The roar of the breaking surf upon a stormy day.
The freshening breeze and salty spray
Run deep within my blood.
Seafaring men of old passed down to me
A feeling of unity, of being one with the sea.
Let me stand in the bow of a fast-speeding boat;
Let me feel the wind in my face along with the spray.
Let me feel the chatter and bounce as we roar across the tides.
Let me relish the curl of the receding wake
As we leave our cares behind.
And when we reach our chosen port, and tie up to the dock,
Let me nap in peace beneath the sun
And feel the rocking, lapping tides as they lull me off to sleep.
For I am child of the children of seafaring men
And boats and the water run deep in my blood.
So when I die, pay a golden coin
To the boatman on the Styx;
And have him ferry me for one last ride
Until I rest, rocked in the arms of the sea.
© 2-3-11 Liz Elias
Photos by Pixabay
© 2015 Liz Elias
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