Out there on the horizon,
the sun begins to rise,
and my ship continues to sail,
over the salty water.
White flapping in the wind,
the sails and my clothing,
the deck clean and lonely,
and I am staring off board.
The air is fresh,
the day is new,
but the sounds are old,
the ship is old, (and sturdy)
These were my mutaneers,
my first mate,
and of course my lover,
they were here under my sails.
My honest friends,
the sounds of laughter below deck,
while I stood hollowly steering.
No crew could run my galleon,
as I in my solitude could,
with ghosts of myself at each station,
and no position unfilled.
And I the captain standing empty,
there at edge of my ship,
staring out into the endless sea,
with not a soul in sight but my own.
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Submission Name: Here On A Solitary Ship
