Sea Curse

Though sheltered safe within these welcome walls
Far from the surf that pounds against the shore,
We hear the syren's voice above the squalls
Calling us to go to sea once more.
We may rest a month or two, a year
At most, before the calling overwhelms
Our senses. All that we can hear:
The singing of the rigging 'fore the storms.
Then, we can't rest till wild beneath our feet;
A surging deck that brings us sweet release.
Our land-born ties may try but cannot meet
The hunger for the sea that will not cease.
You see it in our eyes; we're haunted men,
But half-alive until we sail again.