Once you sailed the open waters, calling into many harbours, the thrill of new place's and new faces.
Arriving one day, upon a town, you felt like settling down, that feeling of moving on, just wasn't strong enough.
Some of the locals liked you, some didn't, never trust a stranger was muttered in dark corners, but eventually most accepted you.
The late night lockings, was where the magic happened, songs would be played, story's told, and of course, gossip, listening to it, but never taking part, sides not taken, a skillful art.
As time went on, you started to notice certain routines, if you wanted to see someone, you'd know where to find them, sat at a bar, or walking their dog, mostly repeating the same things, it always brighten the day, to break their flow, asking, tell me more about that holiday? New information would ensure.
The day came, with a calling, a new adventure was a hauling, but what will you do? asked the townsfolk, drift where the wind takes me, your crazy, said the look in their eye, my parting reply,
not crazy,
but I will be,
if I stay.