One Night by William Marsland.

[billy]

a really minor edit, will do some butchering another time


The small plywood hull
hampers the furrowed swell.
“Splosh, splosh “ the waves laugh,
then slap the citrus green of a pretty prow--
and rings the red buoy’s bell.

Cool salt spray in small amounts
lift and leave the slightly foamy crest
to spray and slightly spot
a slightly spotty face,
and almost wet a vest.

A breeze balloons to blow its breath
into an empty sail. It doesn’t fill the sail that much,
not one tiny little bit.
really not a breezy breeze at all,
more like a breeze’s touch.

From daze at sea to days that be,
a pirate’s sleep can last an ocean’s dance--
Then it’s time to hit the shore,
roll back the sheets and trim the mast;
to give the dream just one more glance,
before he walks the plank.

The original

The small plywood hull,
hampers the furrowed swell.
“Splosh, splosh “ the waves laugh,
then slap the citrus green of pretty prow--
and rings the red buoy’s bell.

Cool salt spray-- in small amounts
lift, and leave the slightly foamy crest
to spray and slightly spot ,
a slightly spotty face,
and almost wet a vest.

A breeze balloons to blow its breath,
into an empty sail. It doesn’t fill the sail that much,
it doesn’t even fill the sail a tiny little bit.
really not a breezy breeze at all,
more like a breeze’s touch.

From daze at sea to days that be,
a pirate’s sleep can last an ocean’s dance--
Then it’s time to hit the shore,
roll back the sheets and trim the mast;
to give the dream just one more glance,
before he walks the plank.