GAMWRITERS

There come Neptune's children

From afar, weary, resolute,

Deserting their source,

The soft horizon.

White-crested waves,

Emissaries of seafarers,

Gentler than doves at w ill,

At will destroyers.

Here come the waves,

A watery stampede,

Thunderous upheavals,

Exaltation.

In their race to touch sand,

Euphoria,

On the senseless sand,

Thunderous clapping,

Sweeping sheets of foam.

Now they beat the retreat,

A generation of silvery

Bubbles behind them;

All breaking into a sigh.

Have they just arrived

And still yearn for more?

Just like me.

Hassum Ceesay (Sr)

(Ndaanan, Vol. 5, Issue 1&2, March/September, 1976, p. 27)