my ship stays <br />tied to the dock <br />battered by the sea <br />stinging from the salt <br />weathered by the sun <br /> <br />my mast is tattered <br />my hull is warped <br />my sails are torn <br />the fibers of my rigging <br />are frayed and unraveling <br /> <br />there is no able seaman <br />who lovingly cares for this vessel <br />no man who has <br />memorized every plank <br />from bow to stern <br /> <br />my helm no longer remembers <br />the carress of a sailor's hands <br />though I fear that <br />the slightest touch <br />may sink me <br /> <br />occassionally someone passes by <br />my slip but remarks <br />'she's beautiful, but she <br />needs too much work' <br />and continues on <br /> <br />oh, won't you come mend my hull <br />swab my decks, retrim my masts <br />restore my ship <br />so that i may sail once more<br /><br />Julia Phillips<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-ship-2/
