Floating on the ice-blue sea,
Away from your homeland.
Leaving thin, red, trails as you go.
Steering among the foreign, black-seal-dotted icebergs.
Electric-white lightening flashing,
And the chill of the Arctic winds,
Bombarding from all directions.
As you long for,
The lily-pad life,
Its comfort and kinship,
Now, but a past possession.
I, do, too.
Let us stiffen our lips,
Tighten our collars,