The Fisherman and his catamaran
by nishu-mathur
On golden shores on white sands,
Stands a blue catamaran.
With toil, love, skillfully made.
Though paint chips off, colors fade.
It's built from logs of hardy wood,
A fisherman... his livelihood.
He sails each day, with hopes new,
His life, his love on a rippling blue.
On calm waters when sun shine beams,
When the shimmering bay glistening gleams,
When waves dance, in tandem sway
Where sun rays wink, hide and play.
On vengeful days when waters mock,
When menacing gales toss and rock,
When dark clouds engulf the bay,
When the world anchored safely stays.
But the sun kissed fisherman,
Sails each day his catamaran..
Never tethered on safe shores he,
For thats not where he's meant to be.
As he sails the coastal bay,
I see him fade.. far away
Singing songs, in the distance he,
His love, his life, his hope..the sea.