Wooden Ships
Ardent galleon cutting foamy high tide
Each sliver born to venture yet farther
Captain and lady, stout crew by their side,
Still hailed by stalled gray frigate in harbor
You’re bailing water again, foundering
Says the unsubtle, frantic semaphore
Wan efforts to stay afloat floundering
Desperate colors, guilt cannot ignore
Ours not the only ship with billowed sails
Sure hands ride in closer proximity
Yet only our craft you insist to hail
Another failure for your litany
Ere, as your crew, began my sailing craft
On fair seas, through inky nights’ frozen rain
How could I surmise, you color me daft,
My apprenticeship owes eternal chains?
Leaks in careworn hull not of our making
A Dramamine rerun, your sophistry
To sail in your wake, sadly mistaken
Your dry dock is not our trajectory
5/9/16
© Thomas W. Quigley
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