Wandering

Wandering through life day after day, tossed like a ship in a mighty gail; Trying to find a place to anchor, So that I might finally cut sail. I hope my ship will stay a float, till I can find a harbor of peace; Where the sun is warm, the sky is blue, and the winds they will cease. I have grown old and weary, my hair once brown now turns gray; Fighting this storm that I call my life, battling both night and day; Has left me weak and tattered, just looking for some sweet rest; I hope the morrow will be kinder, and not the start of another test.