Under the Green Desk Lamp…

I listen ‘cross the open sea,

The wind comes faint but clear,

The message I have longed for still,

I seek but do not hear.

The clatter of the steamers,

The bouncing of the dories,

Confused and contradicting voices,

All telling different stories.

I strain amidst the clamour and din,

To sort the idle chatters,

And parse them out and crack the code,

And hear what truly matters.

The voice is there, the words unformed,

Hang on the winds gale,

And promise me to someday share,

The end of my own tale.

That quiet beneath the roar,

The plodding maelstrom,

Tugs unceasing at my mooring,

And lures me far from home.

But still the promise lingers,

From deep beneath the fray,

An island out amid the waves,

Upon which I might stay.

-Brad OH Inc.