We Cannot Be Tamed: A Collection of Poems

Seafaring

The sea is turbulent, its waters froth,

Tossing my shelter, my little boat.

Mixing and swirling like a steaming broth;

I hope that I can stay afloat.

A gust flies in, a windy sweep,

My vessel leans to the left side.

The water looks cold, the water looks deep,

I fear I may fall to the tides.

The boat is moving, the boat is in motion,

Gliding forward at a rapid speed.

My vessel floats across the ocean;

I make out an island, I fall to my knees.

My boat groans as it hits the land,

I jump in the shallows and pull it ashore.

I fall asleep upon the golden sand,

And then I wake up on the bedroom floor.