Harbour Lights

Harbour lights twinkle in their smoky sparks gulls-above circle, where a wet dog barks barks, barks at the white waves leaping ashore. I shudder to think of sailors offshore; how fates in the hands of a pitch-and-toss there is no-patina there is no-gloss lives-are-lost at sea and-widows are-made singing shanties on a pier promenade so when I look at harbour lights twinkling in and out of view and the sacrifice that is daily-given, freely, think twice because one of those lights might not come home one of those lights might not go out alone. And that poor widow, let's not forget- her bed is now empty not, just a net.