The Schooner

Gentle waves caress the hull,

As a lover to it’s mate,

Soft undulations fostering a grand dream.

Gulls sound their lullaby,

Urging on this docile behemoth,

Fashioned of wood and pitch.

Sun warming the salt bleached deck,

Whilst beams reflect off whitecaps crest,

Blinding as diamonds are beautiful.

Cool breezes buffet weather worn sails,

Placidly rolling port and starboard,

Slicing onward through gulf born swell.

Spar raised skyward,

Touching heaven with square sail unfurled,

Carried by the breath of angels.

Acrid spray stings,

Overpowering the bulkhead in swarms,

Showering planks with briny ice.

Days last glow cast shadow approaches,

Salt sea air begs sailors slumber,

Beckoning twilight to take the helm.

Timber creaks with waves touch tender,

As starlight hails sunsets mate,

The moon assumes this maidens master.

What ports ahead in waters uncharted,

Daybreak’s charge determines the way,

To stern bid farewell the fore she must go.

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