The Ketch

The soft sea breeze blows from the bay A wispy cool flutters the as the trees have their say Quietly the music drifts out to the trading ketch As we await our passengers our boat would fetch The rowing boat moves and touches our side As a rope is fastened and securely tied The lady in her long flowing gown Is helped aboard with her luggage is bound The anchor is pulled up and the sails are set The breeze filling our sheets as the sea is sliced as met We make our way in the blue waters sparkling through To Port Adelaide wharf we know what to do. © Paul Warren Poetry