Home From the Sea
an ode to aging in exactly 50 words
My days on the sea are clearly done.
No more climbing the shrouds,
No glassing of the horizon,
No setting of the topsails.
Slowly rising from my bunk,
worn out and wobbly
on wooden land legs,
I groan
and strive to unbend,
happy to navigate
no farther than the galley.
Photo by Armando Castillejos on Unsplash.com
I am way too young to be able to relate to this, but I do.
Well done, Sharron. As a worn and wobbly sailor myself, I can relate.