I dreamed I saw an older man
sitting by the sea
in a dusky, summer sunset
and the winds all blowing free.
His soft, white hair was blowing long
as he rocked in an ancient chair
and he looked away at the darkening sea
as if it wasn't there.
And the sky was burning pink and gold
and the sea foam drifting near.
I called to him both loud and long
but he didn't seem to hear.
He drew his breath and gave a sigh
And then began to smile
as he lit his pipe and closed his eyes
and was silent for awhile.
I put my hand upon his knee
and looked into his face.
A bright, young tear crept in his eye
as he looked into empty space.
“I'll be eighty-two August fourteenth,
about half a year from now,”
he said, and shivered slightly,
because the wind had just started to blow.
And in his eyes a bright light shone
like a beacon for the young
He said “never leave a road unknown
nor leave a song unsung,
For life is passing swiftly, lass,
more swiftly than you know,
and now I feel my time has come,
and that I soon must go.”
And across the ocean, faintly,
I thought I heard a tune
that told of wondrous places
and wove mists around the moon.
The tune grew stronger swiftly,
and the smell of harvests ripe,
and I saw a hoofed figure
was playing the tune on bagpipes.
And, just behind him, a procession
of things that could not be;
Myths and songs and legends
of a place beyond the sea.
As if in a dream of pleasure
the older man rose up and said
“Good-bye until tomorrow, girl”
and he, behind, was lead.
They faded into moonlight beams
and left me here on the shore,
and to the sky an albatross
rose upward to soar.
I dreamed I saw an older man
sitting by the sea,
in a dusky winter sunset,
and the winds all blowing free.
