Old Navigators,
Where they go or dream,  
Doesn’t matter.
As long as there is still,
Somewhere to go.

Meanwhile I'll just sit on the edge,
Well ahead of the crowd,
Waiting for the train to eternity.
Where it goes does anybody know?

While I wait,
I’ll sit on this deck,
I’ll dangle my feet in the warm sea,
Look at the sights.

And I’ll enjoy it all,
With the spirit I was given.
Perhaps I’ll whistle a tune while I wait,
Even if it is bad luck,
It hardly matters.

Maybe I’ll write in the log book.
And if someone after me reads the entry,
That’s fine.
And if they don’t,
That’s fine too.