A storm is blowing outside, but my cottage is safely anchored on
terra firma. If my abode had been pitching and rolling as ship on
a restless ocean I would not been so cocky, but on my seaman’s
legs stagger about, worrying about foamy sea washing the deck
hitting portholes in green fury. As a seafarer I loved the calm sea,
but feared its wroth. The terrible shudder when a big wave hit
and nearly drowned the ship, there was nothing anyone could
do but hope. Yes she did it and I couldn’t help falling in love with
the old girl and call her a swan that knew how to take care of me.
I have a respect for nature I have been helpless in its embrace,
waiting what comes next. I survived, sit in a cottage and listen to
the storm, yet I would give years just to once more be out there
taking my chances, and when safely in port, eagerly raise my glass
in the knowledge of that I had been given another day of life.
