Sonar Poem by Bill Mitton

What did I think was I doing here?
This was no old man*s cruise.
These waves belonged to the
Fresh faced, twenty something, sailors.
Their deference simply made it worse

Even here in this dark Sonar room
faces tinged green from the screen*s glow
My heart holds only loneliness
my mind ever on her who’s smile haunts me
and even their young laughter jars

The vow *never again* becomes a mantra.
And I dig inside myself for one,
Just one, small spark of joy
But my mind and heart are
Like the seas we sail, troubled and grey

*We have a contact* brings me from the greyness
and on my screen the dots appear and grow
strange, unusual contacts, *Go to aural* headphones buzz.
Suddenly my heart lifts, my eyes swim and my soul soars,
as my head is filled with waves of whale song.