An ardent stride
Conveys my thoughts
And vexes my companions
Uneasiness has settled in
And my pocketbook ( to my chagrin)
Is soggy from the dropping rain.
Enroute to port
We stopped just once
To rustle through my papers
I fear that we're already late
And I know they will not hold the gate
But I am out of cigarrettes.
Our ship embarks
We jump the bar
And catch the hands' attention
We traverse the dockside spiral
While the gulls announce our arrival
And hope for scraps from our late lunch.
