Cold rush-
Wind gust,
He limps
Along
With an old
Wooden cane,
On a Bridge
By the Bay-
Talking in a low
Voice,
Singing
A song,
Of true
Folklore.

"It all washes
Up on the shore."

Tales
Of Fights
And Trouble,
Followed by
His love
Of long ago
When
Mermaids
Still
Came ashore.

Skin hangs
On him,
Aged and scarred,
But once
He was young
And spry.

He sings,
"I remember
The day the
Mermaids died."