Spitting Watermelon Seeds

It was a simple tune, stormy but calm

We once whistled without fear

When the waves crashed by near

Before the moon let her hair down

For a midnight bath

I can still fill my fear

With the thick smell of salty moss

Which made the rocks shine in moonlight

Covered by the acrid cloud of tobacco smoke

For a midnight escape

There were walls of old stones

Eroded and pensive like sailors' wives

Waiting, hoping, yet offering wine and fried fish

To sailors other than their hairy men

For a midnight companionship

... Today

When lightning lights the desert sand in silk

I revisit oceans, mossy rocks and waves

And secretively whistle a tune stormy yet calm

And sometimes wonder if that wall of rocks

Still offers wine and fried fish

To sailors lost

In a midnight moon

And a tune

July 14, 2018

© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2018