A PRETTY DOCK
There is a pretty little place where sail boats dock,
Right by where the river enters the large lake.
Birds fly around making a tumultuous, happy song,
Passers by saunter and chat and new friends make.

The wind pulls at the moorings, begging craft to come
And join in the fun and laughter. Come for a sail.
Set the sails into the wind, till they lay far a’port,
And the sailors feel the spray as they hang onto the rail.

But if there’s a storm warning, the wise stay safe ashore,
The brave head homeward quickly, the foolish stay
Out and fight the mighty waves that can crush
A tiny vessel, or it can be swallowed by the spray.

I love to feel the movement, the wind in my face,
I love the adventure of running in a lake race,
I love the safety of the harbour, its friendly light
I love to see the boats docked safe at night.

M Ann Margetson Jan 2 1999 ©


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