a storehouse of memoriestreasured away
provisions of the past
squirreled away
'till the time of harvest
a day when
old age plummets my mind
into solitude
no longer gathering youthful
spurts of ambition
straight-faced
in seclusion
I go to that deserted place
and play the game of solitaire
I am the one that flies alone
married to my memories
and the vessel
that rests in my harbor
of hermitage
me
Well, for now my sails are set for Australia and my
friends down under...
Hey Harriet and crew,
we are quite the bunch of sailors aye...!
