The Great Escape

The Cook’s Escape As cook on a ship I hated her crew, rats posing as seafarers. A night when the ship passed by the shores of Panama, and I saw my chance. Loosened the ships raft and as it glided into the sea I jumped after. Moon lit night I sat dreaming listening to the song of the sea. In its embrace I fell asleep when I woke the raft was tugging a beautiful white strand. The locals were frying red snappers with lemon juice for breakfast. I thought of the crew, thugs from hell, had to make their own breakfast. This glorious morning I was free of the sea and narrow minded men who had never read a book and whose idea of pleasure was a harbour whore. Yet, such is the pull of the ocean that I still dream of its sun showy surface, on days when her crew was resting on their scruffy rust dirty cabins. Yet, know I know the fault was mine not seeing their despair.