Reflecting Crimson

by Frank Jauregui

Walking on the beach in mid-November
Me and my son, my little one
Searching for seashells, staying out of reach
From the grasp of the cold ocean waves
Grasping, reaching, always reaching, out for something
What? ..., I do not know.

A tiny shell looms large in his little hand
A hint of crimson reflecting off his palm
As he runs toward me, laughing, shouting
Happily announcing the treasure he has found.
And all the while, the hollow sound
The turning, churning, round and round
Of untold riches swirling deep
Where princes, paupers, pirates sleep.

Now in my hand, I hold the key
My little boy looks up at me as I examine what he’s found
And as I twirl it round and round
I look into his eyes and see, something alive, beckoning me
Back to a place where grace abounds, Where all around the hallowed sounds
Of a long-forgotten youth
Arise from fragments on the ground, to offer their reproof.
But as they draw me near, I wonder, do I still possess an ear to hear?
Above the cry of wasted years, beyond the sea of fallen tears
A flash of light, a distant thunder; I hear the call yet still I wonder
Do I still possess an ear to hear?
Or am I counted with that number, who hearing cannot understand
The distant calling of that land; so pure, so rare, arrayed in truth!
The song that sweetly rises from the island of my youth.

My little boy runs off
Kicking up his heels and laughing
Startled, I awaken shivering cold and ankle-deep
A solemn yearning in my heart, an ice-cold swirling at my feet.
Frozen still, all but my eyes, I watch the waves as they retreat
Futile in their quest for grasping, yet triumphant in their way
Having reached out, touched, and left me
Something from those distant sands
Looming large within my hands
Reflecting Crimson!

Write A Review

Free Verse Poetry Contest contest entry

Recognized

Both my sons are now grown men but I was remembering many years ago when we went to the beach and they were young boys. Their sense of imagination and excitement on that day got me thinking back to my own youth with a sense of loss. Now I think back as an older man and realize that youth is always calling back to us, we just need to have ears to hear, and respond to that calling.

Pays one point and 2 member cents.

You need to login or register to write reviews. It's quick! We only ask four questions to new members.

Frank Jauregui has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.

Remembering a time on the beach when I was a young father.

Reflecting Crimson

by Frank Jauregui

The FanStory Store For Writers

Your Poem On A Mug