The Morning Hour
Late at night the morning hour
finds my self again
foundering upon the reefs
the echo of the worst
she does not care for me
the memory cannot be made unclear
it beats upon the core
like the darkest water driven white
with wind against the shore
she does not care,
she does not care for me
there down deep the anchor drags
at the hearts still center, where
we hide the deepest secret self
she does not care, she does not care
Sailor if you love your life
do not lose your heart at sea
she does not care,
she does not care,
she does not care,
she does not care for thee
Copyright 08/29/98 Unpublished Works William M. Shannon