And still the sea beckoned
washings it’s salty brine over my feet
trapping them for good
I would be the lighthouse
the beacon in the night
the light guiding shipwrecks to their watery graves below
And still the sea beckoned
grabbing me by the ankles
sucking me in its slimy pull
as I lay throbbing in fear
I would be the lighthouse
where the seagulls made their home
nesting in the port hole
watching for lost souls
And still the sea beckoned
wading out till the safety of the shore drops
leading me to blue abyss
I am the lighthouse
the wife waiting for the fisherman
hoping his empty boat won’t wash ashore
for if it did i’d hear the beckon and answer it’s call to swallow the tide