A poem a day for a year #272

by Amy Turn Sharp


the people fiddle with time at the port
while boats crawl to shore
there's an old man here with a sailboat
and I love him like fever this chilly morning
he doesn't know how much I want to sail away
he's just doing trivial boat chores
drinking black tea
but me
I'm pretending
my name is different
I have a tea cup on that boat
I'm traveling the world
the water takes me in