Poems · writing

Out To Sea

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.

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