At Sea

A cook at sea The sea is restless and white-crested It moves the ship up and down and sideways Broad legged the cook tries to keep order With dancing pots and pans. He dreams of roses but is surrounded by steel He knew of better times, south America. The cruel tempest starts after lunch When in his bunk tries to sleep but is tossed about, He has been on his feet since six o’clock. Hopes the sea will calm before the evening shift.