Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jun 2014
It is my legs
My shopping bag
my companion
My float,
The two oars
My extended arms
Parting the water
In my little rowing boat.
We get there eventually
There are complaints on the way
But we ignore those and soldier on
Loweing the drawbridge in the moat.
Tricky I grant you, in your best frock
No man to help, just me, and my pal.
Keep calm, our motto, or we do rock.
Frothy waters jet up our way
Every now and then
It is like the rivers lets rip
Pulls out its cork to say "when"
Turbulance, oh yes, it is a scary time
The boat behaves like it's on the Irish Sea
Stiff talkings to and patience then it is fine.
We sail to the bank oh its a stone throw away
We disembark like a liner on the ocean
I tie it up to the nearest tree
Walk off through the wood in time for tea.
Piling the two carrier bags on board
It is chocs away into the moat
Back to the castle we go, my home,
To rest, me and my little rowing boat.
Written by
cheryl love
1.6k
   elizabeth capital
Please log in to view and add comments on poems