Beneath the sky’s expanding pleas,
A man on a dock stands by the sea.
The weathered wood has memories stored,
And whispers its tales of a time before.
Sunset hues paint a watery face,
On my canvas of warm and welcome grace.
Seagulls sing, in a chorus with ease,
As the man on the dock sways, in a gentle breeze.
A fisherman’s tale is etched on a plank,
It echoes delight, and it echoes his thanks.
Now the sea owns those tales, that it begs to impart,
To a man on the dock, with a hungry heart.
My footsteps echo a mysterious beat,
As the sea and dock, in harmony meet.
A quiet refuge where I find peace,
As the tide whispers mysteries, refusing to cease.
The moonlight also, writes a silvery thread,
Casting bright shadows, where dreams are bred.
It dances its dance on a silent stage,
While God records, on a velvet page.
A story, where two spirits meet,
And tales and tides forever repeat.
In a haven somewhere, where memories flock,
Lays a timeless truth, on a weathered dock.
The stars above are my witness tonight,
They have guided this journey by the soft moonlight.
I listened to voices and their soft lullaby,
In a haven called Heaven where time slips on by.