Buoys up she from the sea I sail
What poetry can’t address
She serves me well.
The sailor’s misery she knows
His journey’s perilous waves
A rope for me she throws
Dragging to shore she saves.
Watches over her caring face
Suffers the navigator what distress
Resuscitating with her sweet breath
The mariner dying from illusive myth!
This way she rebirths me
Down on earth from the high sea
And till is regrown the sailor’s wings
We talk animated of life’s small things.
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 8:24 AM UTC
Buoys up she from the sea I sail
What poetry can’t address
She serves me well.
The sailor’s misery she knows
His journey’s perilous waves
A rope for me she throws
Dragging to shore she saves.
Watches over her caring face
Suffers the navigator what distress
Resuscitating with her sweet breath
The mariner dying from illusive myth!
This way she rebirths me
Down on earth from the high sea
And till is regrown the sailor’s wings
We talk animated of life’s small things.
Request permission to use this poem