The sorry permanence of the lighthouse,
\nremains , far away.
\nNever to be visited, until too late.
\nThe mysteries of the bounding shores,
\nso close, but too far for our youth.<\/p>\n
The rumours of their secret places,
\nwhere fish jump from the waters,
\ninto your waiting lap.
\nNo line or sinker needed.<\/p>\n
There castles, built out of hills.
\nCaves, smuggler haunted,
\nplaces of interest and excitement.
\nNot like these docks, this shore,
\nthis life.<\/p>\n
But here the Seaside boys,
\ntook refuge from boredom.
\nMade shelters from imaginary storms,
\nbuilt empires of shared fears,
\nand long forgotten
\ntales of elsewhere.<\/p>\n
The irresistible call of the sea,
\nto laughter, play,
\nto be our confidant,
\nto lullaby us in its murmur.<\/p>\n
The fishless oceans were,
\nfor excuse,
\nour hunting ground.
\nThough we drew nothing but dreams,
\nand hopes,
\nfrom the ever-shifting shoreline.<\/p>\n
The firelight of tens of thousands
\nof days of youth.
\nThe dunes forever fading away,
\nto marram grass, and empty dens.<\/p>\n
Away, to the shorebirds calling,
\nthe sirens of the dark.
\nWe baited, waited, and grew closer.
\nFriendships made to last forever,
\nin the sun,
\nwhich is forever setting.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The sorry permanence of the lighthouse, remains , far away. Never to be visited, until too late. The mysteries of the bounding shores, so close, but too far for our youth. The rumours of their secret places, where fish jump … Continue reading