“The lighthouse is a century old; / I only ask for half of that time.”
White slow-turning light
can see the foaming shoals
so why not the swimmers
from fifty years ago.
It warns off the night boats
but why not restore the ones
who made so much of sunshine,
whose footprints shaped
the nearby beach,
whose splashing came
with all the necessary happiness.
A man watches from the headland of a boy.
His beam is not near strong enough.
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in Penumbra, Poetry Salzburg Review and Hollins Critic. His latest books, Leaves On Pages and Memory Outside The Head are available through Amazon. Work upcoming in Lana Turner and Held.