poem

[a...@tekecs.uucp]

The following is appended to a painting my wife did of a lighthouse on the
Oregon coast. Try to envision it as you read:

I Care

On barren rock, the lighthouse stood,
The sea, the rain, the wind withstood.
But now it makes no mournful sound
To tell the sailors rocks abound.

No lighthouse keep is living there.
The lights are gone, the moorage bare -
Just barnacles, and nests of birds,
And lonliness to great for words.

The sea care not for works of men:
The waves will pound, and pound again.
The sun will beat, the wind will blow.
Windows will break, and rot will grow.

The day will come when nought is there.
The sea will win, and who will care?
But I have cared - this view will last,
To help you know what then is past.