As I sit out of the way, at the corner café,
Away from the ocean, but close to the bay,
I remember clearly, afternoon, not gloom,
The different flowers blossomed, or bloom,
Along a scant breeze, I saw the leaves, bend,
By the soft gentle wind, a message it did send,

On the breeze was a perfume, from slight lass,
Came from a wonders pass, sharp as slivered glass,
The perfume with a story, which is a mystery,
Of a lovely lady, who once lived in my history,
She’s beautiful; with no compare, against I dare
Mutter a word in shame, or the wrath I share,

But absent she went, with her beautiful scent,
I am not worrisome, for the memory she lent,
Brings to my mind, of a unique long ago time,
When she was my true love, and I in my prime,
We would dance, dance, might have been a prance,
With all the natives, giving us an extended glance,

Now it comes from the west, little harder at best,
In the breeze there’s a sound, a beat then a rest,
Do I believe my ears, to hear what it was bringing?
A female soprano singing, the melody a ringing,
How long I have forged, into the echoing gorge?
For song of long ago reminding of mother’s storge,

Gentle like from above, flying on a winged dove,
Singing like an angel, whispering words of love,
A song from when a lad, not yet exceedingly bad,
Before I broke her heart, made her all too sad,
Now I am the sad one, for not being the good son,
And forever her love is gone, and I now have none,

The wind now from the ocean, causing sick motion,
As I watched the sailors weep, without their potion,
On the ocean that windy day, Mother Nature I did pay,
For the winds awesome waves, on the boat I did sway,
But on the old wooden ketch, the fish net I did fetch,
For all the large fish, on the day was a massive catch,

Truthful as the sunny sky, this is not a fisherman’s lie,
We caught all the fish in the ocean, ay, might be shy,
With day long gone, and the memory of the dawn,
Time to set forth into the night, with ropes drawn,
The shackles hoist the canvas sails, in search of tall tales,
Looking to meet the man, swallowed by the white whale,

When the bright moon rose into the sky so soon
Topping out over the sandy, sea oat filled dune.
It was in the twilight, after the windy daylight,
That brings the chills, of a cold crystal night,
The day did not extend, and met its woeful end,
This spring day, I will miss like a long lost friend.

As I sit out of the way, at the corner café,
Away from the ocean, but close to the bay,
I remember clearly, afternoon, not gloom,
The different flowers blossomed, or bloom,
Along a scant breeze, I saw the leaves, bend,
By the soft gentle wind, the message it did send.