The Horizon

It's a matter of perspective and how you choose to look at things.

I stand along the shoreline and feel the ocean spray.
It is good to see the white sails drift along the bay.
As far as eyes can follow, as far as eyes can see,
white sails dot the horizon so far away from me.

Like wings on azure waters, they fly towards the sun,
as white specks of cotton clouds cling to the horizon.
Where sea and sky mingle, with salt music in their throats,
I watch the disappearance of the caravan of boats.

Each one is quickly hidden and banished from my sight.
They have moved onward towards the brilliance of the light.
Crossing to the other side, the shore is within view.
People stand and clap and wave to see them coming too.

Just as large in mast and hull as when they left the pier,
each is greeted with a smile, with laughter, or a tear.
Though diminished in my sight, no smaller are they now.
Each remains the very same from the stern to the prow.

Death sets sail across the sea upon the wings of night.
Loved ones reach the other side and walk towards the light.
The ocean waves hello, good-bye as our eyes behold
that azure line of sea and sky that hangs on threads of gold.

Reviews

[Molafvt]

Beautiful poem. I almost felt as if I were standing on the same shore line, watching the same beauty and drama unfold. The way you describe the boats disappearing from view and appearing on a distant shore line was masterful. This was so well worded, with such a compelling rhythm, I could taste the salt at the back of my throat. Lucid, painterly and quite lovely Linda.