The Changes

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His skin is flaked, weathered by the sun
His eyes show the colours of yesteryear
His shadow grows and fades
With the hours of the days
As the light in the sky above changes

Standing on deck of a ship coming in
Entering port for one last time
He wanders through the past
Dreams that did not last
His mind tries to recall all the changes

Changes to his life at sea and ashore
Scenes of youth fresh in his mind
How fast did it go?
He cannot say for sure
For Time hurried on, brought changes

Spray relentlessly slaps his weathered body
He feels the damp of the fog
The job that let him live
Says it has nothing more to give
Will not let him cope with all the changes

The music in his head plays a quaint melody
Echoes of a million seashells
He wants to turn around
Shout he’s seaward bound
But is it time to accept the changes?

They’re saying leave the ocean, it’s time to settle down
Eight bells have rung, your watch must end
But he still wants to fight
With wild sea sprite at night
Chart the same old course in life; no changes

Don’t remind him of home and of hearth
He wants to cast his anchor far from shore
He’d rather stay afloat
In the warmth of a duffle coat
Than be mired in a staid life of changes

© BC 2019


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Beetashok Chatterjee
Beetashok Chatterjee is a seaman by profession. This old sea dog is also a wannabe poet/writer, avid reader, music lover, movie buff, cricket enthusiast and a restless spirit.
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