Being thankful for what I have, and yet, a herd of deer just ran though my yard.
Feasting on the springtime view,
From my mountain home.
Idyllic, peaceful, natural.
People vacation here.
Reposing today watching the sunset,
An old familiar Siren sings her call.
That In past lives I may have yielded to,
The most alluring of song.
Once and yore I did but think that,
She was very long gone.
Still and yet, after all this time,
Her beconing lingers on.
She begs me come,
To be with her once more,
The way it used to be.
What is this restlessness in my soul?
Why am I so cursed with wanderlust?
I hear the answer within and around me.
The Siren's call,
Of the sea.
©2012 Walt Hardester
Click here to post or read comments.