Sailing Somewhere

Until our hearts will rise across the sea,

As soon as all is met as much and one

As victory in silence of a lee,

The baggage and the luggage aren’t done;

An age is but a page, its whereabouts

Are not to tell so as we think and pry.

But dare not aim to scorn a gadabout

Who first felt flight upon a passing fly.

It seems a jolting ride these changing tides,

A voyage earned, the spark of privilege,

While tossed and turned: the brunt of choosing sides－

Adroitly done among the crude and savage.

And to behold what I had reckoned for!

I miss the present once I close the door.