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Nearing Shore
by vincent lyons To stand alone on the Atlantic shore And breathe in deep the misty salted air, To hear again the waves familiar roar, The spray on ruddy cheeks, the ruffled hair- But I'll go down to breathe the sea no more. To sit beneath a mountain ash in June, The smell of flowing meadows on the breeze, The corncrake and the cuckoo sing their tune, The droning hum of busy honey bees- But summer turns to winter oh so soon! The crunch of crispy grass beneath my shoe, My breath turned into fog by winter chill; It's silent now and signs of life are few, The leafless barren boughs are deathly still Awaiting spring to breathe in life anew. These days my breathing's laboured--I've grown old And oftentimes I am confined inside When pollen count is high or weather's cold- What is best for me others now decide, But I return within to days of old. But now a nearer shore is calling me, The day of His appearing coming fast; I know the Lord of Glory I'll soon see When snatched away or when I breathe my last- Maranatha! Come Lord Jesus! Let it be! I am a Christian who belongs to a home church in Sydney, Australia. I am Irish by birth and desire to further the gospel of Christ by my life and my poetry. Article Source: http://www.faithwriters.com |