spilleronsheet

The wooden plank

Blue were the skies 

white fluffy clouds playing around 

sometimes like cotton 

Sometimes like feather 

moving around 

 

under that vast sky 

A dark blue grey ocean survived 

so much salty water flows by 

enough to quench the thirst of generations by 

ebbing upon its surface 

a loose wooden plank 

 

the wooden plank 

don’t know when left upon 

don’t know from where it abandoned upon 

clueless to its origin 

clueless to its thought 

rocking and moving 

drifting apart 

the oceans took it 

the storm drenched it 

the winds chased it 

and it slowly moved apart 

 

 

On the whims of waves that carried 

on the sounds of wind that it heard 

on the guidance of lighthouse it moved 

 

this lighthouse lay upon the rocks 

the plank finally saw a light 

years had passed by 

lost its identity as it flowed by 

what dreams 

what ambitions 

what desires 

and now even what duties 

after so long it finally saw the shore of life 

 

pleading the waves 

praising the winds 

it slowly giddied over to the lighthouse 

the lighthouse was telling tale 

tales of mariners

who were late 

 

as it hurriedly went across 

excited to hearing voices around 

it forgot to listen to heeds 

heeds of lighthouse to be cautious 

alas 

wrecked on the reefs 

sorry was the lighthouse 

but finally the years of drifting could stop 

the story of little wooden plank

that it was 

was it a part of sea 

or ship 

a bid adieu without a formal funeral around