At Sea



I wrote this after spending a pleasant couple of hours socialising with a beautiful lady who might or might not have wanted to take me to bed. She did as it happens (and we had a great time) but I remember the mix of desire, caution, optimism, doubt, and uncertainty that came before.


I am at sea.

I do not know the tides,

Or winds that blow here.

I cannot read the weather,

Nor the waves,

And I’ve no chart.


I sail on slowly then,

Double watch in the tops,

Sails three-reefed

Anchor roped and free,

And always heed,

The leadsman’s call.


She tempts me, this ocean,

With depths unplumbed,

Exotic isles,

And treasure for the brave.

Somehow always just,

Beyond the horizon.


I sign the log, and rise.

Once more on deck

I glance to the sky,

For a sign.

A quirk of eyebrow?

Yet I am still at sea.


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