On my better days
My watery eye rests
Somewhere between dream and imagination
And I am aware of a gentle ocean
Swinging into lazy waves
Slapping each other softly
As a bright white yacht
Slips serenely and silently
Through this accommodating sea
As long as the planet breathes
And air becomes wind
Or even breeze enough
To fill the glowing sails
The yacht keeps gliding
Blithely forward
But that's on my better days

                                            By Phil Roberts