Race Point Lighthouse

     The flats of Provincetown; below Race Point Lighthouse; were wind racked and lonely except for the few die hard diggers combing the flats digging for soft shell steamers or the hardier quahogs. But my mind raced out into the bay, passed the pleasant vision of a basking pod of pilot whales.

     My mind roamed southward across the bay to thoughts of Barnstable, Yarmouth and Dennis Beach. For in my minds eyes I could envision my love, walking the beach, or playing in the gentle surf. Oh to be there now, to feel my arms around her once more, miles from all this loneliness. But fate has not deemed it so; I seem destined to live out my final days here on this porch, with only the far-away memories of Cape Cod safely stored in my soul.

     The lonely fall days of my life advance, memories cloud; and looking back has become a way of life for this old cowboy. Like that crazy old black dog running here and there, trying to catch its own tail, my mind passes time chasing old memories of people and times far away. But God is good, although I live here where loneliness dwells, through His grace my mind dwells in my memories and dreams.

© 2002 ~ David L. Griffith

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~ © 2002/2010 David L. Griffith ~

"There is no cure for birth and death save to enjoy the interval."

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