A listing boat on listless sea, amber sunsets to catch,
Heading home by the long way to a house with a roof of thatch.
Made endless lists on the way home, noting all I have made,
Out in the glaring sun, the sail casts little shade.
Am I the least bit original? Out here I’ll never know,
I think I’ll lose the alphabet, the ocean can take it and go.
Do you remember that feeling? from no water and too much sun,
We used to forget to drink water when we were little and having fun.
Well that’s what I’m feeling now, scorched from a wood fire,
Homey wood fire is not crashing waves and how quickly of it I tire.
On land my words are off balance, used to the shifting waves,
They tilt an crash into porcelain cups then go off and hide in caves.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are, come and play in the sun”
But I miss my afternoon oceans, each moment the ocean stuns.
Do you know when I love the ocean most? When it’s flat and quiet and still,
A luminous pale blue, tinged with green and pale yellow chill.
When there are never any waves and the breeze is made of candy,
Though the inky night will soon pounce, and all that is left will be sandy.
Which is not at all pleasant, so I rinse thoroughly in the dark sea,
And dry off under the silent moon, and go to sleep under olive trees.