Lighthouse
A cool spring night.
A gentle breeze blowing off the water.
I hear the breaking waves.
On the shore, the evergreen trees are standing lofty and proud,
their tops almost seem to touch the sky.
The lighthouse is in the distance tall and regal,
with a light shining, a beacon in the dark night.
The moon is just rising.
I hear the sounds of the ships calling to
each other in the silvery, yet black night.
The lighthouse is guiding them home,
through the dark spring sea.
J.Remmert
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