Sea Legs
The ship may list, the deck may rise,
And palls may blur the painted skies,
Though deep within the shifting tide,
Your tired, aching steps confide.
The floorboards rock, the timbers groan,
But you have claimed the deep your own.
With parted knees and shoulders bent,
You move in quiet, sweet content.
The rigid stance of coastal streets,
A memory that now retreats;
Instead, you yield to every roll,
Allowing waves to shape your soul.
For when the ocean claims your feet,
The racing pulse begins to beat
In perfect time with foam and spray,
Where gravity is washed away.
So let the vessel dip and dive,
You are the rhythm made alive.
No longer fighting nature’s might,
But walking with the dark and light.
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