Benjamen loved two things more than anything else,
He loved writing poetry and sailing on the sea,
Once he went out in a small row boat on the south coast,
Suddenly a storm came over head and rocked the boat.
He turned quickly and the oars dropped into the water.
Without oars he was adrift at sea.
Luckily the storm abated and he sat still.
He had his trusty note pad and began to write.
“I have time but time does not have me,
I see water all around but I’m not free.
Am I being punished or given an opportunity,
Difficult to know from this side of eternity.
I watch the waves splash against my tiny boat,
Who understands the magic that keeps me afloat?
Perhaps we have the curiosity of a mountain goat,
And we need to attend to the dryness in the throat.
Out at sea a man thinks of Gods and saints,
listening to all the dull human complaints,
Yet still colours the world better than a great artist paints,
And lets human kind wonder without restraints.
Death is a good swimmer and the day passed without a dream,
Until Benjamen was startled by the sound of a rescue team.
He had beaten Death this time but let out a scream,
Because he knew he would have to wrestle again tomorrow with the Suns beam.