The Sea Calls, a sailor's poem

The Sea Calls
By M. Clayton

In the warmth of a golden afternoon,
A mother waits for the clatter
Of boys and their friends, soon.
Silent hours pass, no chatter,
Her young son has been called to the sea.

In the darkness of a night without sleep,
A bride reaches across the bed.
Fingers brush the empty sheet,
She misses the man she has wed;
Her husband has been called to the sea.

Playing and laughing, a child with her toys,
Pauses, listening for a car.
“Is Daddy here?” she cries with joy.
“No, love, he’s still away so far.”
A father has been called to the sea.

With flags flying high and music so grand,
We honor our sailors today.
On a ship, a sub, a far distant land,
Loved ones are a heartbeat away.
Our heroes are called to the sea.

In the bright dawn of a morning sky,
Or the dismal cold of late night,
Excited, we stand with our heads held high,
Cheering for the glorious sight
Of our Sailors returned from the sea.