The Abandoned Boat.
Upon the shore, a boat lies still,
Its weathered hull a silent thrill.
Who ventured forth, with oar in hand,
To chase the waves or seek new land?
Did they cast nets for silver fish,
Or sail for joy, their heart’s own wish?
Was it the sea’s embrace they sought,
Or fleeting dreams their journey brought?
Why left alone, this vessel old?
What tale of loss is still untold?
Did its master fade, by time undone,
Or drift away ‘neath moon and sun?
No answers come, no voices speak,
The tide’s soft hum is all we meet.
Yet nature moves, with quiet grace,
Reclaims the wood in slow embrace.
Through splintered boards, the grasses creep,
Wildflowers bloom where secrets sleep.
Each root, each vine, a question weaves,
Entwined with salt and scattered leaves.
What stories lie within its grain?
Of storms endured, of joy, of pain?
The boat, now hers, the earths to keep,
Whispers questions as I weep.
For though I ponder, guess, and roam,
This boat’s true tale remains its own.
In nature's arms , it softly falls,
While mystery lingers, and silence calls.
No matter what we do or abandon nature has a wonderful way of taking it back and renewing it.
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