Love Sails on Sunday
On Sunday we will go down with our cries,
down through the humid dawn into the bay,
and launch our little boat under the skies,
deep blue with cotton strands to meet the day.
The young one goes to curl up in the bow,
the rocking waves to lull his sleepy eyes,
a cool draught through the scuppers on his brow,
you kiss the salt from off his dreaming sighs.
The breeze will tease your hair and make you smile,
waves on the hull drum beat a rhythmic sound
and then we sheet the main, and all the while,
the dolphin and the turtle dance around.
And Sunday's love will sail on endlessly,
in setting sun, bound home eternally.
In fond memory of
Allen Gail "Greybears" Brady
11.07.1951 - 27.11.2007