Close to the Edge
My father was a sailor
He was always off the shore,
And I’d watch his sailboat ‘Ransom’
As it gaff-rigged past our door,
And he told me – ‘When you’re old enough
I’ll show you where they dwell,
The mermaids, with their necklaces,
Made out of cockleshells!
Then out on the verandah
He would stare straight out to sea,
Where the sun meets the horizon
Then he’d sit me on his knee,
And he’d tell me tales of Morgan,
Tales of Captain Kidd and Co.,
When they roamed the Caribbean
In the days of long ago.
He would sail out in the summer,
He would sail out in the fall,
He would sail to the horizon
In the mist, and through a squall,
And he always took his bo’sun
‘Shifty’ Dick, who trimmed the sail,
Drank the ‘Ransom’ dry of whiskey,
Lashed his wrist, hard to the rail.
Then one winter, storm capped waters
Beat unceasing on our shore,
And my mother lit the lantern
Kept a vigil by the door.
But the ‘Ransom’ kept its secrets
Never came to shore again,
And my father joined the history
Of all seafaring men!
I grew and took my lessons
In a little trailer-sail,
When my mother wasn’t watching;
She would cry, and she would wail:
‘Don’t you ever let me catch you,
Staring, looking at the sea,
It’s enough I lost your father…’
‘Never fret! You won’t lose me! ’
For years I watched them leaving,
All the magic sailing boats,
Some were worth a clear million,
While some could barely float!
I watched as they sailed out, and then
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poem by David Lewis Paget
Added by Poetry Lover
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