By the Shore
Whitecaps, eager, race to shore —
couldn’t get there any faster;
sand attempts to keep the score…
Shells of pearl and alabaster
dot the wild, abandoned coast,
laid bare as an ossuary,
and the wind, a mournful ghost,
Indifferent, the waves hurry.
Hanging clouds, soft cotton candy,
wispy tendrils probe about.
In my beach chair, sipping brandy,
waiting for the tide to out.
Sweat is cooling, makes me shiver,
pondering my life and death,
yearning for a single sliver
of a sail upon God’s breath.
There she is, all mast and power
as she leans from bow to stern.
As her wake upends the hour
yearning over, I return.
A. Gee has spent the bulk of his 20-year career writing code for a living. An avid reader of both English and Russian classical literature and poetry (English is his third language), he’s long been fascinated by the challenge of creating metrical, rhyming English poetry that wants to escape out of your mouth and be read out loud. A happily married father and grandfather, A. Gee and his wife split their time between New Jersey and Texas. Check out his book, Myth Takes: Rhyme and Reason in the Age of Entitlement or more of his poetry here.