French Sailor Boy

French Sailor Boy

Life With Catnip

hot vint25 rest

At any moment, the tide would switch,
Silence would become loud,
With ringing commands,
Of the captain and the anchor,
Drawn up from the depths.

The ship was coming about
I paced the deck, pausing,
Nothing stirred not even fish,
Leaping up to breathe,
The night air.

From somewhere nearby, a bell rung
Reverberating in odd patterns
Through the mist.

First came one voice, then a second,
Accompanied by the steps of heavy boots.
A shadowy figure appeared,
A French sailor,
Gently nudging me.

“We’re weighing anchor now Miss.”
His French was accented and strange,
And lovely, and beguiling,
A verbary of a fine language.

It was the first time,
That I ever heard your voice,
I knew right then, you were him.
And I wanted you, desperately,
How could I ever forget you…

I loved you then,
Just as I love you now,
My French Sailor Boy.

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