Sail Boats Forever
Dr Abe V Rotor
What a crude game, you may say,Of my ancestors’ sailboats catchingThe breeze, docking the gusts,Edging the rocks, sans compassOr sextant, map and telescope.
What prize is at stake? Not a trophy.Yet the instinct craves for a prizeLike 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 windAnd water, let alone an old boatAt rest, sitting on rock like an old man,Guarding over the young, who too,Shall someday play the same old game. ~
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