On the Crest of a Wave

We live sailing for making a living, fisherrmen we are, leaving our lives in the hands of Mrs. Luck. We cross the oceans all over the world for fishing, surviving for another bet in a harsh life. Our boats are often on the crest of the waves. A dream for a surfer, a nightmare for the fishermen. Big challenge for sailors and big enjoyment with a board on the beach. We all feel together, while loneliness runs through our mind. We are sailing back home after months away, feeling happy, but alone. Surrounded by a cold, deep ocean, we just celebrate our return, the days out and a good catch. We can' t wait to hug our people waiting for us. Our loved ones, that live with the fear and the doubt in their bones about seeing us again. We have to be strong instead, for us and for them, showing them the happyness we don't have, being as far as frightened on the crest of a wave. We sail back home, we are nearly there, we are happy that this time, we didn't cross big storms. We are having a big dinner, some drinking, and lot of talking. The dawn light give us a push up, the seagulls welcome us with their squawking flying around. We can see the harbour, we make a toast to celebrate that we reached our land, after being for months fishing on the crest of a wave