By Patrick Loweth
The blind sailor awakes from his slumber
Sitting solemnly starboard under the ship
He stands up like a thunderbolt
Ready to heed to the captains every request
As he opens the hatch leading to salvation
He gets a kiss of a cold winter breeze
And through this taste of gale
He can tell a storm is brewing
For through his many years at sea
He has grown accustomed to the ways of the ship
This day will be mundane, most definitely
In the space of his mind he relaxes
He slurs through the day
Taking no action into consideration
He completes the days tasks without a second thought
As as he lies down to bed
He hears the churning of the ocean, louder than before
Far away on the ship whooshes and bangs make a cacophony of noise
The ship has sung it’s final song
As the rough wooden hull touches the soft silt of the ocean
The presumptuous sailor sleeps
Blind to the efforts of his companions
They all rest in the eternal slumber of death.