She thought she had it all figured out, all grown up, so very wise
That little daughter, only so much cannon fodder, used as someone else’s guise
No match for pirate’s, a little girl like she,
When they tossed her in that barrel she was carried out to sea
No mermaids here, no siren’s laughter,
Only that little girl with waves that thrashed around her
They were hungry, and it had been so long, since they were fed by little more than song
A memory then, she heeded here, of those pirates whom she never held too dear.
One of them would tease and pry, rejoicing at tears of frustration flushed from her eye
Another one, his name was Cree, always knew she’d be thrown out to sea
The third, she thought of, had deep blue eyes, and in desperate want of a better disguise
With short cropped hair and baggy clothes, this pirate didn’t look much like a woman, she supposed
Still, she knew now too late, the cleverness of that particular crew mate
Hopeless and hapless she drifted on,
Days bled into nights,
(You can’t exactly tell when there is no light)
And she felt drawn
Through this despair she did not weep,
Though that may have been due to the lack of sleep
A barrel is not a comfortable home, but in her heart she was far from alone.
She remembered her friends on the shores of Merleign,
The boy with grey eyes who would walk down her lane
She was always glad to make him smile, as it made him that much happier, for awhile
Now she had to focus on her own pain, and not on a world so far away
Thinking of her father’s words, she found some strength and quietly versed,
“Draining all my life out, worrying over you
But you’re gone out of my sight and there’s not much I can do
I’d just as soon fly from here if I thought I’d get some answers
Struggling with what love means and whether we’re all in danger
Though something stops me in my path
Every time I go, my love, I’m sure you’d laugh,
But I’m afraid somehow of what you’d think of me.
Showing up announced, an unwanted pithily.
So I travel on, wanting more of your song,
Though now it’s up to me to form the melody.”
The daughter squared her shoulders, bracing herself with her father’s poem,
Pushing up against the wood, splinters welcome a blessed pain,
As she breaks through she can see sunlight again.
Using a long scarf to catch the breeze, striped colors flashing bright,
The little boat (for that’s what it has become) darts over the waves chasing away her plight
A smile lights up in her face, and she’s on her way,
And not a single cloud,
(Except that fluffy one)
Covered the day.
Woolgathering 