(20 minute poetry)

I navigate, I
swear I do.

This crew will not believe me.
I have charted far and wide across the seas,
but now I hide down in the doldrums.

'twas foolish of me,
this motley crew would like to do me in,
hush
was that a pin that dropped?
the silence stops my breath.

Nearer to and to thee I ask
to let me curl up one more cask
before this day is through,
before this scurvy crew discover me.

'Land **', I hear,
a cheer topside,
I hide no more and am
instead
feted by this crew and
led to be
yet once again.
the Master of
the sea.