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Old Man by the Sea

Some call me Captain, or Cappy, or Cap;
Others call me Old Man, or Old Salt, even Mad Jack.
Oh Captain, my Captain some say
As they meet my gaze,
And they shuffle off away from me
Lost in some narcoleptic daze,
Like cataleptic zombies in a Mardi Gras parade.

My yellow rain slicker, matching boots and hat
Are tattered and worn, proof of the fact
That the sea is my home, my lady, my life
My one true love, she's even my wife.
I wake each morning to feel of the salt spray on my skin,
Which is sun browned,
Leathery and wearing thin.

My hands are callused and rough
From the life I spent working out on the sea.
Hard as a barnacle or tougher than a nail
Are words some used to describe me.
But come squall, or storm, or raging high tide
You'll hear not a complaint from me
About my chosen bride

Her brine flows through my veins
Her spray kisses my face.
Her windy fingers run through my hair
Leaving not a one out of place.
Her surging rhythm rolls
'neath my feet she dances and sways
And by her side forevermore will I spend all of my days.


By

Jeffrey G. Allen

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