'Lighthouse'

My longing for the sea, in all its moods, and my wishes to escape the anxieties of life. Sometimes I just want isolation and the chance to be my own person.

‘LIGHTHOUSE’

I often think that the ocean

Is just outside the door;

As if my home were a lighthouse,

Far out to sea.

The roaring I can hear,

Is not the sound of the wind through trees,

Or traffic on the motorway.

The wetness of the courtyard slabs;

Is not because it is has been raining.

Through the window,

The garden, with its wooden fences.

There are no flowers;

Only an abandoned swing seat,

Rocking by itself. 

Patio and paths;

Not made of chippings,

But beach shingle;

The strands of whiteness I can see;  

Not spent blossom,

But blown spume.

Out there,

Where the sky presses down;

Troubled clouds;

And the wind,

Forever swirling.

Beyond,

High breakers;

And fearsome reefs;

Such that, on a day like this,

No-one may reach me;

A longed-for mercy.