A Haven Called Heaven

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.

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