Strolling the Bridge

Night in the Persian Gulf can be, very eerie
Steaming along the eastern coast, the bizarre sights
Tall flaming spires from ghostly oil fields, so fiery
It's as if I sail the shores of hell on these nights

The seas part before me in phosphorescent curl
Menacing gun boats prowl the watery darkness
In the masts, shifting albatross silently whirl
Strolling the bridge, coffee cup for my alertness

My mind occupied by my dear wife and our home
Counting the days until I return to her smile
My searching eyes spot a light in the ocean foam
I raise my glasses and judge its distance, a mile

I report the unknown contact down to combat
Thoughts return to her, and the beach, where we sat

© Copyrights G. Jones 2008

Author's Note: Sailor's Sonnet Series