OCEAN WHISPERS

OCEAN WHISPERS

I can hear the whispers

Across the space and time

I can hear the water rippling

And the Ancient Mariner's Rhyme

I can hear the seabirds calling

As they rise and again they swoop,

On the distant horizon 

I see an ancient sailing sloop.

I can hear the wind that whistles

As it comes around the Bay

I hear the waves as they crash

I see the salt sea spray.

I hear the roar of an angry sea

And feel the mist at end of day

I see the multitude of shells

On the edge of a sandy bay.

As I press the shell close to my ear

I hear the same things that you do.

In time I am transported to sailing days

And a horizon of deep deep blue.

I see the gnarled old fishermen

And the wives who bid them farewell,

I see their wooden sailing boats

Rise and fall on the ocean swell.

As we stroll the sandy stretches

With water around our feet,

A smile and a cheery wave 

For the others that we meet.

Ours is the shell and ours the dreams

And ours the ocean voice

As we listen very carefully

With hearts that can't help rejoice.

We talk about the things we dream

That are there on the ocean floor

The treasures lost to other men

And days as they were before.

The Mermaids and King Neptune

And the Sirens who issued the call,

The story of  Sailors who went away

And were gone for the longest haul.

As the shell is pressed up to my ear

I can hear the widows wail,

No more will they come to the shoreline

To watch their men folk sail.

Their nets will be empty and idle

Their boats will not sail on the tide

A small town on the Cape 

Sharing grief it cannot hide.

The shell is passed to you my love

And you tell me the scene is changed

It is summer now and people play

Their lives are rearranged.

They tack their way through the quiet bay

And the  sun glistens on the water

White sails and a strong sea breeze

That carries the sound of laughter.

We sit for a while near the water's edge

And are quiet for a little while,

You ask me the question you have asked before,

And I answer with a smile.

"Can you hear our ocean whisper?"

"Yes my Darling I surely can"

We hear the secrets of the ocean

Just a woman and a man.

As evening falls and the mist rolls in

And wraps itself around us

We know that it's time to leave the shore

And we do so without a fuss.

I will take the shell that told the story

And dust off all the sand.

I will entrust it to your care

And place it gently in your hand.

Dreamers we are and romantics too

But time and distance keep us apart

Still the dreams we dream are very real

And live within out heart.

A silver shell on a silver chain

And worn with very great pride,

Tells the story of the dream

And the love we cannot hide.

© Linda J. Vaughan

March 26th. 2012

"Can you hear our Ocean Whispers ?"

STROLLING THE SHORE

STROLLING THE SHORE

Come walk with me along the shore
Let's touch the shifting sands,
The wind in our hair, salt on our lips
Let's hold the world in our hands.

Imagine for a moment if you will
The sand under your feet
Let's wade knee deep at the edge
Where the sand and the water meet.

We will stroll and talk
And pick up shells
We will hold them up to our ears
Hear the stories the ocean tells.

Let's wander back in thought to the days
When the ships would sail from Cape May
When the women would wait with loving hearts
And hope at the start of each day.

We'll regale each other with stories
Of ships that sailed at the  morning
Of the prayers and the hopes still held fast
And the light that flashed as a warning.

We'll sit on the sand and rest a while
With hearts that are full and deep
And the memories that we are making
Will be ones we will cherish and keep.

We will listen to the water
As it swells and rises and falls,
See the seabirds lift and soar,
And hear their plaintive calls.

If I close my eyes I can see it all
The sun, the shells and the sand,
The breeze whipping up the water
And the day just as it was planned.

I'll gladly walk the shore with you
And willingly take your hand
As we both share with wonder
And the way that things are planned.

© Linda J. Vaughan
March 21st. 2012