The Death of an Ancient

Moving day,
what a way to sum up all I've known.
The accumulation of my life,
the end to all I've done.
I've slept so restless,
rested none,
stared aimlessly at the sun
as it sets
and as it dies,
all while the moon lifts to the sky.
And side by side,
I idly sit,
this age old house,
my dear Catalina,
my love,
my spouse,
until morning comes
and all is done
and I climb from my rooftop,
with a song oversung.
I toss my bag onto the ship
and board the floating beast,
the sky rings high and loud and proud,
and screams in harmony.
The wind flys past, scorching the mast
with reckless doubt on hand,
and bright green grass becomes a mass,
of world rightfully manned.
I look behind and watch my lies,
speak volumes through my eyes,
as my sweet Catalina fades,
and blazes toward the sky.
I've left her now, ashes on ground,
for a journey far more true
than the fishermans' life I led on earth,
for a life I'm way past due.