The sea is a mistress to sailors, <br />waves beckoning homeward fall, <br />white crested heads on a rolling tide <br />above a dark mysterious lair. <br />A ghostly mist masks the sirens wail, <br />come hither, come hither, <br />and against my rocky home fall. <br />However, men are men <br />as sailors are born to the sea, <br />a home from home <br />full of tempest lure and bounty free.<br /><br />David Harris<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sea-12/
