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No warm sea breeze upon my face nor powdery sand beneath my feet, the bank I stand upon is rocky, cold and her waters run quite deep.
There is no safe harbor where fond memories have come to dock, just a ships graveyard filled with dreams that never took stock.
Tranquil seas do not grace these shores, just spells of doldrums between horrific storms.
Gleaming grommets of polished brass adorn not my decks, just signs of stress and casualties signifying frequent wrecks.
My crew, ragtag and often seasick, have nonetheless stuck with me when the thin replaced the thick.
So with a hull packed with regrets, burden, and remorse, the constant sailor I remain charts a new course.
But no matter how optimistic I may seem, without stars to navigate, port is but a dream.
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