Light Years



The lighthouse is a very lonely place…
An island in the middle of the sea
Where seldom can be seen a friendly face.

As keeper of the lamp, it falls to me
To guide the weary sailors toward home
With hope within the beacon shining free.

Within the walls, I feel the spirits roam:
Two lovers seek reunion of their souls
To ease the ache of lives lost to the foam.

I hear it while I sound the morning tolls,
The longing and regret that mark the years
Since passion was ignited like the coals.

Rejoining them will dissipate their fears
And free them from an afterlife of tears.

© 2007 by Robert E. Blackwell