The Sea It Calls Poem by James McLain
The Sea It Calls
Over the sound,
the sound the waves made.
Footprints to the edge
in time, it stops.
Along the beach
I do as well.
To sit and watch, it stop.
It never does,
she watches from
the bench, the park put in.
Always kind she waits.
She waits, this time.
With nothing on her mind.
Except the clock,
she left behind, inside her home.
The church bell rings,
hear it ring.
A purpose once she had.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 8:26:05 PM # 1.0.0.1119
A soft fluid write. Purpose, time, our mission in life, loss and despair.