I was slowly floating farther from shore,
one look away and I was unmoored.
Every tear that I shed filled the sea more,

yet you were there, my buoy.

The riptide grabbed me and pulled me below.
No breathe in my lungs, the drowning was slow.
All my dreams, they were silenced and seemed long ago,

and there you were, my buoy.

You rowed me to land and brought me to life.
Though the ocean was vast and its name was Strife,
I had almost succumb to my wounds that were rife.

Oh, how you saved me my buoy.

He had leveled my mast, ripped the winds from my sails.
Tethered my anchor, in admist of a gale.
Let the storm batter my body and ignored my wails,

sent me adrift with no buoy.

But you silently chartered a map back home,
through serpents and sirens and knots of sea foam.
You slowly towed me out of the cyclone,

Adrift, but afloat with my buoy.

A shipwreck disguised as a Galleon,
ravaged and sinking with no freedom.
Caught in an eddy, chained to my reason.

Pulled out of the storm by a buoy.

And though the clouds have not cleared,
thunder still rumbles - the torrent still near.
I hold on to your ropes and wake as you steer.

My captain, my buoy, my boy.