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© 2018 by Benjamin Shaw. Created with Wix.com

Sailboats


I see sailboats finding better shores

Ships built with three masts or more

Other men fat off the catch they bore

And I'm wondering how long I've been anchored for


Diesel from the harbor is thick in my breath

Pushing out what fresh air I had left

Salt water rusts the parts I need to fix this busted up machine

Currents pull but I try to keep the canvas clean

Soon sails will fill with hopes of reaching home

That storms will break and make way as you roam

Keep land to your starboard side and be weary of the tide

I yell from my barstool in this cold northeastern dive


I see sailboats finding better shores

Ships built with three masts or more

Other men fat off the catch they bore

And I'm wondering how long I've been anchored for


First years on the coast I saw ghosts about to crack

Carrying storylines pre written on their backs

Hopped a freighter hauling cargo to try to find a different end

But here I am again


Cemetery near my house is getting full

Established names fill almost every row

Familiar faces leaving roses take traces of the stone

Tending to the ground they plan to be below

Keep my eye upon the wind to take me out

When an easterly comes through to get me South

I'll cut the mooring line and say goodbye to the shore as I move on

To the deep, darkened waters where I belong


I see sailboats finding better shores

Ships built with three masts or more

Other men fat off the catch they bore

And I'm wondering how long I've been anchored for