Father short poem

Uploaded by Keith Wilson

His last breaths….
from within a white Portland ward,
beneath white sheets.
Were silent endearing sounds.
They were not born of pain,
but of peace.
His loyal wife…his bonded sons at his side.
The oldest son softly whispering, “Go to the light Dad.”,
the youngest feeling his Father’s warm hand.

The incoming tidal arms reached his doorway…then bed.
The Sea…with it’s captive slow rocking swells…entered him.
His breathing was that of one who lives beneath water.
No longer completely human.
It softly paused…and the Sea receded.

He was as alive as a Wyeth fisherman…as a worn dory.
He lived within the Maine ocean currents,
in the deep coal black of a lobster’s eyes.

His stonewalls and porches …all complete.
He now rested with legs crossed….beer in hand.
Smiling at what was…
His wives…his children…and the Sea.

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Keith Wilson

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A marine science teacher who is deeply connected to the beauty of the natural world and is in endless wonder at the opportunities of discovery that each moment offers.
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