my ship stays
tied to the dock
battered by the sea
stinging from the salt
weathered by the sun
my mast is tattered
my hull is warped
my sails are torn
the fibers of my rigging
are frayed and unraveling
there is no able seaman
who lovingly cares for this vessel
no man who has
memorized every plank
from bow to stern
my helm no longer remembers
the carress of a sailor's hands
though I fear that
the slightest touch
may sink me
occassionally someone passes by
my slip but remarks
'she's beautiful, but she
needs too much work'
and continues on
oh, won't you come mend my hull
swab my decks, retrim my masts
restore my ship
so that i may sail once more
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
nice discription, I could see it tied up, , , the dock keeping it from sinking