Sunday, July 26, 2009



It is time for my helm watch, my wheel time
She's not my ship, but responds to my touch
When I take hold, I still feel other warmth
From another's hands upon her steering
He has skills as I but dissimilar
He is the master and the commander
I am privileged to touch her at all
But when I do she seems so very mine

Although I have no claim to my wheel time
When I relinquish her it hurts my heart
And I long for my return to her helm
When at it, I feel no real fear with her
The sinking sun melts in golden stream
O'er shoulders of the beautiful horizon
Meandering with twinkling greens blinking
Over beautiful soft swells I now traverse

I steer in the unknown on my wheel time
I look toward the fading dark horizon
I know my time alone with her is short
I treasure the moments of my night watch
The sky lights with bright stars through her canvas
And they twinkle and reflect off of her
As if they were a million nice fireflies
In the shape of dippers, bears and crosses

I wonder if she likes it, my wheel time
I wonder if she feels the kindred thrill
I wonder if her beautiful riggings tremble
I wonder is this her favorite time of day
I wonder if she knows that it is mine
I wonder does she feel sting of release
I wonder is there anticipation
I wonder does she love the helm watch mine


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