The Old Salt
He is sitting so quietly on a rock by the fjord
big shoulders drooping with years.
He is whispering softly a strange sounding word
his eyes are filling with tears.
Now he is here, he has lived too long
the old sailing deep water man.
It should have ended i New York or Hongkong
in Rio or maybe Japan.
His days are so long they seem without end
his wishing and linging in vain.
His eyes can follow the fjord to the bend
with barely a glimpse of the main.
His life has been good it just went too fast
so now he has nothing left.
Then through the sunset he glimses a mast
it makes him feel so bereft.
He is looking and finally sees what it is
that ship coming up through the wind.
She is a supplier he says with a hiss
another damn factory in.