Daily I go down to the shore <br />put hand to brow <br />look left, right <br />back and forth, <br />as far out as possible <br />hoping to see - just a glimpse even - <br />of some great ship, that I've never before seen <br />only heard rumors of; <br />they say, once it was here, <br />and someday it shall come back around <br />tying itself to our dock, <br />perhaps even take us away <br />to some unknown, unimaginable island paradise. <br />I cannot even recall how I know this, but <br />somehow I do - <br />Still, at times, when life gets so routine <br />mundane and low, <br />as it is so oft to do and be, <br />it seems as if the story of the great ship was merely a legend, <br />never again to sail into this port. <br />However, the deep wonder that looking for it gives me <br />will not rest... <br />so here standing yet again, another day <br />at the shoreline <br />I put my hand into the cool water, while <br />I gaze out, as always, far, far away... <br />my eyes see nothing, but <br />in the sea my hand feels the waters tremble, <br />with excitement and anticipation -<br /><br />Smoky Hoss<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/waiting-at-the-shore/
