SAILOR

By Nolan Moon

There you sit, my young mate,

Upon a wooden ship, twenty sails or more.

Doweled pine mast pointing toward a heavenly state,' canvas harnessing power only wind can store.

There she sits on an aqua plate, domed by the sky, salt in your blood and none need ask why.

Time passes like the crest of a wave, and in time you'll see many a port. Each memory you'll try to save,

Thoughts of love and sea you cannot sort.

For now they are one in the same,

And you wish to hell aboard you never came.

It's too late you belong to Poseidon,

Your death will be another of the sea's last sin. That soul of yours will dance from wave to wave, and will never pass heavens golden pave.

For now you sit singing songs of oar,

Upon a wooden ship of twenty sails or more.