the lost

The Lost.

I was young home from the sea, my friends
have a working week, some were already
married, so I walked alone around the town,
looked into shop windows, which was rather
dull and ended up in a bar had an early beer,
and met people who were just drifting along;
they showed me kindness, I knew why, but
it’s hard to be home from the sea and no one
to talk to. The friends I knew had, as they,
say moved on. The glory of quest, the world
I knew was slipping away, the days when we
were single have gone and I’m the loser, me,
the sailor of the seven seas, pays for beer by
those who sit and laugh in morning bars.