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