the house

old, thatchety, falling apart

on a rise, a cliff overlooking the sea

where the rickety wooden boats sail away

not much more than old slabs of trees

proud with their great masts of whte flags

waving anything but surrender

thehouse has a chimney

and it puffs out ashes of smoke to greet the weary

tired old boatmen coming home

and to give those leaving something to return to

house is almost overtaken by nature

taking on almost a life of its own

underneath the cerulean sky, clouds almost as puffs of chimney smoke

but white, pure as innocence

unmarked character

ships disappear into the distance

nothing but specks of courage

the ocean uncertain; still they leave

to return hopefully to the old house

weary in pride

however rickety and wooden

the water glides beneath

footprints of their journey gone in moments

house,stern, watching over them

to always come home

and to bring their courage with them.