The Lighthouse

Through this window,
Newly framed and painted,
I see an old lighthouse
At the end of the town.
Proving its existence,
Only at night.
Hiding during the day
In bright sunlight.

Come dusk, and the darker night
Alone it would stand
Emitting dead-end warnings
Of the dangerous coastline.
Not a ship, not a fisherman's boat
Come near it, far and from very far
They avoid it scared.
Just as the lighthouse meant to.

I close my window
Overwhelmed with the irony.
Again, i look through the glass
For that neglected tower.
What man see what it stood for
Through the ages at that very spot.
Only to be forgotten, and unsung for.
A big failure that it never complained.

Through this window,
Newly framed and painted,
I see an old lighthouse
At the end of the town.
Proving its existence,
Only at night
Hiding during the day
In bright sunlight.

Author's Note

This is my first poem. Please do comment. I will be extremely grateful.

Reviews

[Tom]

Penned with lots of pathos and tells an excellent descriptive story !

A first rate poem my friend !

[Flora]

A beautiful descriptive poem.

[Surnam]

Thank you!