Solitude.

A shore of frothy grey,
The blue day comes to pass,
Her sun is veiled and left to look,
At blankets of the clouds.

No tear, today, occurs,
No rays shall penetrate,
And on the lonesome shore,
Shells tumble and withdraw.

The seagulls cry, bidding farewell,
And migrate from the land,
A hut of old and worn resides,
And homes a single man.

A rusted kettle lies,
Destroyed by lack of use,
It mirrors he, whom once was wise,
Not now nor evermore.

And the fading sounds of seagulls rings,
An echo of the sea,
Only the battered shore remains,
And man in solitude.

Admetus long ago,
Roamed lands with her bright light,
Inseparable and bathed in love,
Their vantage point was high.

Upon a distant shore,
Through haze and mystery,
Fell a transcendental,
Dream upon his eyes.

The two, they flew as eagles,
And sailed across the air,
Alcestis’s sweet laughter sang,
Harmonized with splendor land.

But one cannot escape one’s fate,
And tragedy, she preyed,
Snuffed the life from maiden fair,
Sent maiden’s man to living grave.

And the fading sounds of laughing rings,
In echoing memory,
Only the battered shore remains,
And man in solitude.

A lost and withdrawn man,
Devoid, brims with loss,
The frothy grey moves up and down,
But dissipates, does not.

The blanket overhead,
May stay eternally,
If one does not perceive grandeur,
Once seen in intricacy.

The lonely shore beholds each grain,
With beauty vastly deep,
Just waiting for appreciation,
Paid as proper due.

Inside the hut of old,
The kettle, stagnant, rusts,
And he who sits and lost his love,
Hears naught, but the sound of the froth and the shore.

And the fading sounds of seagulls rings,
An echo of the sea,
Only the battered shore remains,
And man in solitude.

(Published in Print in 'DeSSerted Island: Poem Collection' - 2014)

by Cameron Gallant

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