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.
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