Shackleford

I stood on a hill, overlooking the sea,
Where a town or village used to be.
I thought of the children who once played there,
Who with their parents worshipped in prayer,
on Shackleford.

I walked over the spot where houses once stood,
Down paths that led through vines and woods,
Where echoed music in years gone by,
As mothers sang to a baby's cry
on Shackleford.

I found my way to a burial ground,
Now covered with brambles all around.
And I wept for loved ones lying there,
Now free from sorrow, worry and care
on Shackleford.

I climbed a sand dune, and gazed off shore,
and listened to the mighty ocean's roar.
I recalled tales of storms at sea,
Witnessed by folks who used to be
on Shackleford.

Ellen T., 1960