There’s been a lot of been-ship.
A lot of shipmates sailing together
Until the waves broke vessels down
And carried us through different sounds.
How many wrecks upon the shoals
Of opportunity and goals?
Once anchor-bound by a tether
Until this wave crashed, that one rose.
Ah, the different seas we chose.
Ahoy there, mate, crossing the bar,
We parted in the ports flung far;
At many harbors and much bad weather,
Washed ashore by ambition or pride,
It’s on such rocks old friendships died.
Now this old sailor home from the sea
Is grounded by age and apathy
Without a gull of matching feather.
We were too focused on our fishing trips
And missed the lighthouse to true friendships
Photo: “Crossing the Bar” by the author, 1969