Prism of endearment.....

A man of years stood on a worn wooden deck,
of a war torn ship that has seen it all.
Sails fill and flap accepting trade wind breezes,
thoughts of life a long time ago begin to call.

Remembering his family, Victorian home,
all those years ago when garden was plush.
Children were many and all very young,
sitting under a shade tree, no reason to rush.

Been many years since last pulling into port,
will his family remember the man who departed?
Leaving with promise, a dream, a mission,
returning with honor, but a spirit broken hearted.

The life envisioned was a prism of endearment,
a mother, a father, observing their children grow.
A promise made once, unable to fulfill,
now much older with virtually nothing to show.

Many medals and undying respect from peers,
shiny gold buttons, a new sword at his side.
Commandeering and sinking others at sea,
but the blessing of home life was forced to slide.

Ocean mist continuously kisses his face,
as he clearly remembers the life left behind.
Will she be waiting on the widow's walk,
where women before came and went in kind.

Slowly rubbing his moist unkempt beard,
as if to comfort and soothe internal fears.
Bright blue sky peppered with white clouds,
as he tries to hold back and hide his tears.

Through his looking glass he sees a woman,
surrounded by men, women, children at her side.
As his ship comes closer, closer into port,
images grow clearer and his eyes open wide.

She has grown older the same as he,
yet, her beauty, makes his heart pound.
All these years, she never lost hope,
now he is anxious to set foot on ground.

The family he long ago left behind,
has tripled in size as his children grew.
They too have families all their own,
another chance at the family he hardly knew.

 A man of years stood on a worn wooden deck,
of a war torn ship that has seen it all.
Sails fill and flap accepting trade wind breezes,
thoughts of life a long time ago begin to call.

Written by:
Karen Palumbo
Photography by:
Robert Palumbo
9/20/2010 © All rights reserved