by Colin Ward

Created on: May 21, 2008   Last Updated: September 22, 2008

A DEATH IN A SEASIDE TOWN

We celebrated our summer, as it crossed into the fall,
One that made me wonder, if winter would come at all,
But in that fateful stroke, it was over in a day,
Deserted now the battered prom, under sky of violent grey.

And wicked blows the wind, from a sea of tragedy,
Her wretched spray of melancholy, washing over me,
Golden sands on which we played, gone for evermore,
And left I am to wander, a lonely jetsam shore.

So smother me, cover me, I just want to hide.
Morning mist my cloak, so they won't see me cry.
Damp be the haze, but I welcome this pale shroud,
A shawl of cold silver, to glaze all around.

Fathers die but sons go on, into eternity,
Any other order, just isn't meant to be,
So why does the organ, wail a mournful rumbling sigh,
While silently I stand, with a tear in my eye.

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