Boat

I could probably write something cliche about boats and going on journeys, yet often times the furthest we go is when our feet are firmly stuck to the floor. 

 

I held the fleet,

Admiral for a team,

Starboard

Port-packed,

Silver stacked

I sailed out

For climates

Warm in the eve,

 

Spied bright sands

And trees,

Trees deep-rooted,

Head of table-seated

I ate my scarce meals,

Kicking my legs,

Space to swing free

Limber in too-large shoes

 

You told me to change,

That I tread with a limp,

And really,

I had never been where I’d gone,

It was an act

A ruse

To escape off the bat;

I could never walk a mile

 

But nor could I further stay

I was away again, smiling,

Already seeing shores anew,

Many leagues of bare toes

And covered crown undue;

The door slammed, I adjusted

The brim exact

 

If the boot doesn’t fit,

Tell me why I can’t wear my hat

Advertisements

Author:

Amber R Walker, Hull, Creative Writer, Bookmaker, Lover of art

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s