and as the boat drifted
down that queer little
stream of tears
the wood rotted
fell apart
the young rower had to get out
at the nearing shore
pulling the measly
excuse of a boat
with them

the rower approached a man
where is the nearest carpenter
my boat can take me no
further
the man with his silver whiskers
glanced at the small boat
before nodding to the owner
i’ll fix it if you tell me
you story

and so the rower did
telling of the waterfalls
storms and near collisions
with others on the waters
over the passing years
well no wonder your boat
can no longer take it
if civilisation doesn’t want
a dingy in its fishing harbour
and as the rower took a glance
they saw their small boat
looked the best in years

and what is its name
the decaying man waited
for what wonders would fall
from the rower’s lips

Happiness