Sailing

I`m Sailing I was sailing along the coast of Greenland the sea was as green as empty Port Wine bottles when a storm struck it was a fully automatic boat I batted down the hatches went below fastened the seat belt and wait. Before I knew it, I was in a tranquil bay in Portugal and made breakfast scrambled and bacon, but I was vaguely unhappy everything has become so automatic that adventures of daring do had become an everyday occurrence the vessel had even found the best anchorage with the best view. I sold the boat to a doctor who had dreamt a seafaring life away from hospitals and nagging wife, as a child he had wanted to be a car mechanic but his parents wouldn`t hear about it nor his fiancé; a malcontent man who was about to discover the boredom on the high sea. I bought a mule that cannot be trusted it doesn`t like people and every morning it is a struggle to get it to move forward when I plough my little patch of land