The ocean hums a mournful tune,
Beneath a sky of midnight hue,
And in the dark, the lighthouse stands,
A lonely flame in endless blue.
Its beacon sweeps the endless tide,
A pulse of light through mist and gloom,
But no ship sails these waters now,
Just shadows that the waves consume.
The keeper, in his weathered coat,
Leans by the window, cold and still,
His only friend the distant fog,
His thoughts as wild as winter’s chill.
He hums a song the wind once sang,
A tune of sorrow, love, and loss,
While waves crash on the jagged rocks,
And echoes of the past are tossed.
The lighthouse hums its ancient blues,
A song for those who wander far,
For sailors lost to endless seas,
And dreams adrift beneath the stars.
