a Captain

that man is a sailor
a Captain
there are very few like him, you know
he sits there now in his chair by the window
overlooking the sea, smoking his pipe
thinking about his days at sea
when waves tossed his ship about
and thrashed his crew against the rails
as rain and hurricane winds
fought to see who would be first
to dismember his ship

his eyes now smile in faint recollection
of Pacific ports
where natives gathered to look upon the face
that dared stand against the sea
and where young girls across a table listened
as he told tales of great adventures in unchartered waters
as together they sipped rough wines while slender
native fingers stroked his steal-gray beard

there were ports and storms
and brave men waiting his word
to set course for open waters
and other adventures

his face is firm as leather, yet kind
his hands, strong
her eyes, though old, yet speak with authority
and command the attention he has earned

he went to sea in his youth
and now, in old age, is satisfied to know
his dreams were fulfilled

that man is a sailor
a Captain
there are very few like him, you know