My Dad and the Sea

My dad always loved the seacoast, and truly came alive in the salt air and what each season brought to add to the wonder he found there.  This poem is for you, Dad. I hope Heaven holds such a place for you, someday.


                                                  He loved to hear the waves,
                                                      even during a storm when
                                                  they'd hit the rocks, and
                                                       splash higher than his head.
                                                  Cascading back to earth, they'd
                                                        be rushed back from the shore
                                                  by the fingers of the tide.
                                                        He'd walk from his small house
                                                  to town, and then to the park
                                                       that bordered the shoreline.
                                                  Descending the old wooden steps,
                                                       he'd find a place to sit
                                                  while the wind either combed his hair,
                                                       or messed it up completely.
                                                   A fter allowing the sound of the sea
                                                       to soothe his soul, he would
                                                   lick his lips, tasting the salt
                                                       that had formed there, sigh
                                                   a peaceful sigh, and then
                                                       walk back home.