"The Old Fisherman" - Bahamas AI art
©A. Derek Catalano
Life Of The Old Fisherman
On my weathered boat, I stand alone,
A life-long fisherman, the sea my home.
The sunset’s hues, a golden fire,
Reflect my heart’s deep, old desire.
The sea is calm, the tropic’s grace,
Seagulls soar in gentle space.
I watch them glide, so free and high,
While I, with heavy heart, look out and sigh.
These hands, once strong, now bear the marks,
Of countless days from dawn to dark.
Each line and crease a tale does tell,
Of fish and storms, of heaven and hell.
A life-long fisherman, the sea my home.
The sunset’s hues, a golden fire,
Reflect my heart’s deep, old desire.
The sea is calm, the tropic’s grace,
Seagulls soar in gentle space.
I watch them glide, so free and high,
While I, with heavy heart, look out and sigh.
These hands, once strong, now bear the marks,
Of countless days from dawn to dark.
Each line and crease a tale does tell,
Of fish and storms, of heaven and hell.
The wooden deck beneath my feet,
Echoes memories, bittersweet.
The waves once wild, now soft and slow,
Whisper secrets only I could know.
The years have flown, like those white birds,
Silent shadows, unsaid words.
The dreams I had, the man I was,
Are fading echoes, just because.
Because time is cruel, it takes, it steals,
It leaves behind the wounds that heal.
But scars remain, and so does pain,
As I face each sunset’s wane.
I’ve seen the sea, its rage, its calm,
Its tender touch, its ruthless palm.
Yet now, as night begins to fall,
I question if I’ve lived at all.
The gulls cry out, a mournful sound,
A final flight, to the sky they’re bound.
And I, upon this ancient sea,
Am left to ponder what will be.
For though the sun sets, day does end,
The memories I can't defend.
Against the tides of time that flow,
Taking all I’ve come to know.
So here I stand, the day now done,
The sea, the sky, and setting sun.
A fisherman, with life half-spent,
In sorrow’s tide, my heart is rent.
Echoes memories, bittersweet.
The waves once wild, now soft and slow,
Whisper secrets only I could know.
The years have flown, like those white birds,
Silent shadows, unsaid words.
The dreams I had, the man I was,
Are fading echoes, just because.
Because time is cruel, it takes, it steals,
It leaves behind the wounds that heal.
But scars remain, and so does pain,
As I face each sunset’s wane.
I’ve seen the sea, its rage, its calm,
Its tender touch, its ruthless palm.
Yet now, as night begins to fall,
I question if I’ve lived at all.
The gulls cry out, a mournful sound,
A final flight, to the sky they’re bound.
And I, upon this ancient sea,
Am left to ponder what will be.
For though the sun sets, day does end,
The memories I can't defend.
Against the tides of time that flow,
Taking all I’ve come to know.
So here I stand, the day now done,
The sea, the sky, and setting sun.
A fisherman, with life half-spent,
In sorrow’s tide, my heart is rent.
©A. Derek Catalano/ChatGPT