Editor’s Note: Tom Korba of Connellsville submitted the following poem, written by one of his students in 2002 and published in the school magazine.
To the Lighthouse
Watching the gulls circle the surf,
You gaze upon the sunset of gold.
As the sea swallows the shore,
Our ships move through the cold.
Boulderous brutes hidden
In the dark envelope of the night.
Waiting for a lost ship to prey on,
That they devour with their might.
Sailors instinctively take the helm,
When your eternal beam reaches out far.
To a safe harbor they go,
Averting from rocks that hinder the mar.
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