He's in this room? <br /> <br />He's not being rocked <br />Side to side. <br />He's so pale. <br />He was so brown and <br />Often red. Strange <br />To not see him under <br />The sun, moon and stars. <br /> <br />A white blanket over him. <br />White sheets under him. <br />His head floats on a white pillow <br />Like a fish head on a cushion of <br />The whitest sea foam. <br />All of its color washed out to sea. <br /> <br />The wrinkles on his face and neck <br />And the crinkles around his eyes <br />Seem ironed out by this artificial light. <br /> <br />His mouth is closed, and <br />Not singing <br />To compete with the gulls <br />And the waves. <br /> <br />They're silenced now too <br />Behind the thick glass. <br /> <br />He would've liked this view of the bay. <br />The gulls fade away into <br />The gray after a quick fly by <br />Of the large window to his room. <br /> <br />They seem to know he's not coming back. <br />The sea seems to have lost interest <br />In the shore. <br /> <br />A couple of inches above <br />His feeding tube <br />The mermaid on his arm is <br />Dead in the water. A lifeless <br />Blue and red blob adrift in white water. <br /> <br />He's never <br />Getting back his sea legs, <br />Is he? <br /> <br />His lips clamp down on <br />A moist sponge lowered <br />To his mouth. It's just reflex, <br />Isn't it? <br /> <br />His soul has sailed on, <br />Hasn't it? <br /> <br /> <br />The white blanket over him <br />Gently rises and falls. Beneath it <br />His heart still sails along.<br /><br />Francis Santaquilani<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sailing-on/
