The Passing



      I look across the chart that is my life
      And see, like ports and harbours,
      Little creeks and streams,
      All the happy times and oft' the ones of strife
      That filled me with a joy of living and of dreams.

      Yet many, lying soft like pools of misty grey,
      But half remembered, never whole and clear to see,
      Quietly and unnoticed, slide away
      And softly lock their doors and hide away the key.

      No more shall they be seen, nor bide
      With me, that others share what
      I still know they are.
      Like unknown shadow shapes of eventide
      They fly, they fade in misty dreams afar.

      And as I drift and let life slide me by,
      So one by one each hatch is shut and locked and barred;
      'Til only one direction, one last door I spy
      And there a shining figure, sword in hand, stands guard.

Lt Cdr Nigel Arthur 'Bernie' Bruen MBE DSC RN (Ret}


 This page created 9 June 2013