Beyond the last buoy

April 16, 2014

4/9/2014

On realizing that I am a year older than my father when he died.

I am swimming in a dream.
Far out, beyond the last buoy,
Far from the noisy beach and shouting
Children and their bright toys,
What am I doing here,
Out in this murk?
The sea is smooth,
But featureless,
And the water dark.
T.W. Burger

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