Storm And An Old Cargo Ship

A storm is blowing outside, but my cottage is safely anchored on terra firma. If my abode had been pitching and rolling as ship on a restless ocean I would not been so cocky, but on my seaman’s legs stagger about worrying about foamy sea washing the deck hitting portholes in green fury. As a seafarer I loved the calm sea, but feared its wroth. The terrible shudder when a big wave hit and nearly drowning the ship, there was nothing anyone could do but hope. Yes she did it and I couldn’t help falling in love with the old girl and call her a swan that knew how to take care of me. I have a respect for nature I have been helpless in its embrace waiting what comes next. I survived, sit in a cottage and listen to the storm, yet I would give years just to once more be out there taking my chances, and when safely in port, eagerly raise my glass in the knowledge of that I had been given another day of life.