An old lady sits and stares at the floor
For her husband, the fisherman, will come home no more.
A young woman cries at the sea and the foam.
No boat will arrive, bring her lover back home.

A babe screams for food, in his crib does he lay,
But his first words, no father will hear, on this day.
A dog howls his anguish, waking the land.
Not again will his coat feel his master's strong hand.

They sought no medals, no treasure, no lore
As they strayed far away from the comforting shore.
They weathered the storms, they braved the sea's hate,
For the sake of those who would stay home and wait.

Their work completed, fish filling their hold
They returned to a treasure much better than gold.
To hearts and to homes not touched by the gale,
Until the next time that they raised up their sail.

Now their voyage has ended, they lie still and cold,
And the story of how they died can't be told.
Was it simply their time, the dark hand of Fate?
Spare a thought, good people, for those who stay home and wait.

Penned by my hand on the 8th of Chronos, in the year 381 AF.