I wish I lived upon a boat. (Dedicated to Colleen Wright.)

 

 

I wish I lived upon a boat, beneath the sky's grand quilt,
Where marina life's the antidote to worries and to guilt.
To rise with sun, to sleep with moon, amongst the rhythm, the flit,
To be one with the morning's croon, and the seabird's sunlit lit.

Ah, the public marina, where dreams float at modest rent,
Where laughter echoes off the brine, and hours joyfully spent.
Every dawn, a canvas bright, every night, a star-kissed token,
Life's simplicity at its height, unspoken words, yet spoken.

To the market, for daily bread, to the dock, for friendly chatter,
By humble means, yet nobly fed, where the world's woes do not matter.
The endless tales of ocean's might, in each boat's weathered lines,
Where every day brings sheer delight, and even sorrow shines.

But a shadow grows across our berth, a bitter, hard-drawn line,
The scent of change upon the earth, the taste of sour wine.
St. Pete's marina, once our home, now taken by the grand,
Where once was freedom's vast, blue dome, now stands the private land.

They raise the rent, beyond our reach, the dream begins to wane,
This haven, now a forbidden beach, filled with unneeded pain.
Where life was sweet, and joy was cheap, only echoes remain,
In our hearts, the wounds run deep, the loss feels like a chain.

From our boats, we must depart, our homes upon the wave,
Each farewell, a breaking heart, yet we must be brave.
The dumpsters wait, with open arms, a grim and bitter jest,
Yet even there, amidst the harms, we'll make the very best.

I wished I lived upon a boat, beneath the sky's grand quilt,
But now the dream begins to float, on waters of the guilt.
Yet hope endures, as tides will turn, and dreams might yet revive,
For in our hearts, the sea-lights burn, and keep our spirits alive.