Lost on the Grand Banks
While the wind howls, their little dory’s tossed --
two men alone on a black and foaming sea,
tipping on a swell, desperate and lost.
Wearied -- no sign of shore, one man’s hopes are quashed.
Broken, their plight now brings him to his knees
while the wind howls. Again the dory’s tossed
on angry ocean waves that surge across
the gunwale. As the dory dips and leans,
they spin on a swell, so desperate, so lost
below a marbled flashing sky, their thoughts
swirls of regrets, of loved ones, of vanished dreams.
Louder the cold wind howls and the boat gets tossed.
One man, who still has hope, keeps up his watch
for land no matter how precariously
they tip on a swell, no matter how lost
they are. As the night nears, desperate and fraught
he looks on and on for what he cannot see.
While the wind howls, their little dory’s tossed.
On a swell they tip and spin, forever lost.
Gregory E. Lucas
The Ekphrastic Review
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