Nobody knew when he slept, when he went and came, All we knew, was that ‘Tanker’ Ralph was his name, That he would be at the docks hours before the boat, A decade-long dream, the only sound from his throat.
Wind glazes the edge, causing ripples on the surface, But soon there is no blemish left on its face, A stone stirs up ripples from its bottom, Soon all that is left, is the stone at the bottom. The first
The horizon is far, but the sky is even farther, The euphoria is overflowing, but control is not worth the bother, The travails of this effort exhaust, but show now, as much as a sigh, For, is not fatigue indistinguishable,
The morning breaks out into a clear blue sky, And you decide, today is the day, to give it a try, So you begin, to prepare a schedule, fix the time, By the time it’s done, the clock strikes noontime.
Fresh from nowhere, it came, baggage in hand, All I could do was gape, just letting it stand, Though invited, yet so unwelcome, it would never understand, While every passing second was encroaching upon its land. It looked me in