Innocent and unaware
Of all who’ve been swallowed there
Small children play at the mouth
Of a hungry behemoth
Pretending to be friendly
Until the weather’s windy
Lapping their fingers and toes
With a salty tongue it knows
How to say in ocean spray
Please come close or stay away
It might wave at them or roar
Delight then splinter the shore
This fickle monster so dear
To summer year after year
A frothy rush and recede
Returns with powerful speed
The seen so often unseen
Black hidden beneath blue green
Ignoring a mother’s plea
Pulling her child out to sea
Youth isn’t bound by such fear
Children keep returning here
Swim the edge of life and death
Breathing deep each precious breath
Like Wynken, Blynken, and Nod
Wake up or return to God
____________
Andrew Dabar
Andrew Dabar 
The siren’s pull of the sea is strong for many of us. She can be a dangerous mistress, yes, but her beauty draws us in, her whispers and sighs, her boundless beauty. I’ve visited her many times, and may someday live beside her.
Lovely poem, Andrew…takes me back to some of my best memories.
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An eloquent response, July, complete with sirens. Smiling.
The sea, as potentially dangerous as it is, is such a healing place. We play at the mouth of a labile monster.
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That we do, my friend.
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