Sailboat

Three sets of hands hoist the sails, prepare the boat,
laughing, giggling, and struggling to keep it afloat. 

The coarse sand between our toes, and a hunger for the sea,
the waves beckon to us, and our rudder answers the plea. 

Like the earth and the sun, we orbit within the lagoon
and finally break free of the muddy, rocky cocoon.

Wind fills our nostrils and scuttles across our skulls,
skating over the salty palace that belongs to the gulls.

As we creep closer to the edge, pearls of saltwater glaze my hair,
fingertips glide along the waves, and our exposed bellies graze the air. 

The thrill is slowing, arriving at the other side of the sound,
exploring a grassy inlet with only mosquitoes to be found. 

A small lighthouse stands, surrounded by vines and ants,
an ideal setting for a tragic sailor’s romance.

We turn back, soft eyes gazing at the marshy inlet, now out of reach.
Let the breeze carry us home to our rustic, charming beach.

crisscross

NY

15 years old

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