Thursday, October 1, 2015
Sail Boats Forever
Dr Abe V Rotor
What a crude game, you may say,
Of my ancestors’ sailboats catching
The breeze, docking the gusts,
Edging the rocks, sans compass
Or sextant, map and telescope.
What prize is at stake? Not a trophy.
Yet the instinct craves for a prize
Like in The Old Man and the Sea;
A prize he found, mindless of people,
Who saw nothing of his adventure.
Let the sailboats play in the wind
And water, let alone an old boat
At rest, sitting on rock like an old man,
Standing guard over the young, who too,
Shall someday play the same old game. ~