Some [Ambrosia]-y Poetry

The Boat

The Boat                                               13/03/24

The boat glided calmly on wide, open seas,

Its sails flapped in rhythm to the soft summer breeze.

And though shadows may lurk in the dangers of my dreams,

There's really nowhere else I'd rather ponder be.

But nothing's as it seems, despite how we assume, 

The storm was drawing near, I could feel it through the gloom.

The once-blue sties turned dark, the turquoise-hued seas too,

And I shan't help but think this could just be our doom.

The boat crashed and fought against the mighty seas,

Its sails bent and ripped from the strong, violent winds.

And if there was a world where all my dreams roam free,

This might as well become its makeshift reality.

Slowly, winds grew calm, the winds would slowly drain.

The skies, likewise cleared, and cleared was the rain.

But washed out was I, you'll see only my pain,

And the boat sailed on, never the same again.