Treasure Island

Paul Gerard Reed

Foghorn Requiem

The breeze rose and fell, wafting stalky grasses
Quietly but pointedly reminding the masses
That this event was weather-dependent
With wind and rain the superintendent

The grey skies cried briefly, but abating their sorrow
Held back their heaviest tears for the morrow
And deciding that the air should be no chiller
Relented and spared the exposed flotilla

Seats were unfolded and small tents erected
Dogs barked at the excitement detected
A fox, already frightened, scurried quickly away
Unsettled but unnoticed by the crowd of the day

Good friends met and cheerily greeted
Facebook messages were sent and tweets were tweeted
Then from the cliff edge the faint thrum arose
Of an assembled brass band blowing its nose

The hubbub of spectators was soon quelled
As the band struck up and trumpet blare swelled
Their proud notes drifitng eerily through the air
Lending sombre atmosphere to the whole affair

Then the first uncertain baritone note
Carried lonely from unspecified boat
Back to Souter lighthouse that historic morn
At last! the foghorn requiem is born!

On the grassy slopes we sat enthralled
As the horns blew and the seagulls called
Until with a heave, seemingly drawn from the past
The foghorn emitted a mighty final blast

Which reverberated across the land and sea
For what truly seemed an eternity
Then, like a dying man giving his last gasp
Let life gracefully slip from it's grasp

Submitted: Tuesday, January 07, 2014
Edited: Tuesday, January 07, 2014

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