by David K Asamoah

That hour their song, to my own ears, will play
And I am left alone bound to the mast,
By my own will, to hear the words at last –
Before to madness I should waste away
I hope to know what seaside muses say
That’ve pushed so many sailors in the past
To the deep ocean depths, these waters vast
Start to invite but to the mast I stay…
The song begins,
                         the words do not make sense
And yet it’s all I hear, the waters rise
And rise and rise. The sirens’ isle appears.
Now close enough, I finally meet their eyes
Filled with the emptiness of sad essence
I’m left, still bound, awash with grief and tears.