Out Of Hemingway's Cuba
Oh Santiago, back again
For days sore missed at sea
And did you foil the mighty fish
Or did you leave him free?
With luck so bad
So many days
You should have taken me.
But you’ve the skill and you’ve the heart
To hold a steady line
To trail behind his monstrous pull
Across the fickle brine.
Or did it snap
Through some mishap?
Please tell me, friend of mine.
Just now, too tired; I understand
You’ve played the Man’s ordeal.
But dockside, skiff and skeleton
Betray the sharks’ cruel meal.
Sleep on Old Man
The lacerated hands
And heart will heal.
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(July 15 1964)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(21 May 1855 – 27 November 1916)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(1644 - 1694)
(13 September 1916 – 23 November 1990)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)