A time once was, a time  when you were still allowed
to step upon the sun dried, salt bleached
planks of an organic sailing ship.
   
To have as only reassurance
a fragile shield of  wood and tar
between you and 
a thousand leagues of water.
   
To hear the creaking of the timber
the shouts of men
and actually look forward
to finding out if we
will live to tell the tale
of yet another rounding of the Horn.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sanctuary Poems (c) 2000 StarFields - http://1-poem.com/