His final passage, all it took to get this girl the read the book
he'd asked her twice before he died, she said she'd started it, but lied
His point was made, she'd do her best, fulfill this day, his last request
for now, what's sure, she's hanging on, to every word because he's gone
and once aboard, she's hauled to sea, no pleasure cruise, but misery
she stands her watch from noon till nine, he drinks his scotch, she sips her wine
He holds the course, and surely keeps the surging seas from where she sleeps
and once her grieving eases some, she's finds his voice a comfort from
the memories, she reads his words through tear filled eyes, her ears have heard
and now she enters into his, her mind alive with images
of life beyond this mortal soul, of turquoise seas and sandy shoal
she mulls each chapter of this book and smells the sea and baits the hook
and climbs the mast up to top, unties the sails and let's them drop
and pulled into uncertainty, the ship sails through calamity
but never does she doubt the man who said he could, she knows he can
and reading on, she comes to see the trip was really meant to be
for all her days she's been alone, sometimes by choice though seeds were sown
but landing here on troubled water, no one found his only daughter
and left to find her own way home, to settle down or wait or roam
she's learned to simply stay afloat, while others love and others dote
on children born to entertain, she'd prayed for babies but got rain
the wind kicks up, her heart still bleeding, blames herself for never heeding
youthful dreams for fear of failing, SUDDENLY she's out here sailing!
now rising from the galley door, the smell of fresh baked bread and more-
sea-salt blends with airborne yeast, and draws her down to taste the feast
she swings the rope from deck to ladder, there's her Dad, a little fatter
the captain calls all hands on deck, a storm is brewing, still they check
to see what's cooking, time to eat, for work requires mortal meat
and in the middle of the story, here's her father's pride and glory
pictures taped upon the wall, his two best girls, and that's not all
a golden key on nail in teak
she'll watch him knead, while floorboards creak
she stands beside and learns his ways, for he was gone most of her days
out to sea to make a living, her mother said he's always giving
now she listens as he praying, for wife and child, what's he saying?
bless them both while I'm away, lead them safely through the day
while fishermen have dropped their nets, he speaks of losses and regrets
that one small daughter missed her dad, he never knew just what he had
and once again the ride resumes, across a sea of oil plumes
and men are hardly scarce she finds, her father's story now unwinds
he fought this battle with his crew, while stirring up a pot of stew
his Guif, the sea, was once so clear, he loved to fish, and held it dear
the tales within this mariner's log, could pull her head out of the fog
he's taught her how to sail the sea, to feel the wind which sets her free
from thinking it's about the past, to taking hold of things which last
and using what's inside of you to break the cycle, cook the stew
to forge ahead and let it go, you must read on, or never know
now seeing that his book will end, she slows her eyes and takes her pen
and writes a note on every page, attempting to now quell the rage
for how could he who claimed to love, allow her pain to rise above
the peaceful calm she's found within his final passage, 'tis a sin
and still, one day he shouts "LAND HO!', the end approaches, heart in tow
she will not greet the writer's end nor leave this place of make-pretend
She will not listen anymore, but drops her anchor just off shore
and won't accept the last surprise, but stills his voice and shuts his eyes
she fights against the frothy foam while bailing water from her own
she cannot bear to lose him twice, his loving presence, sound advice
on written pages, this the book, about his life at sea, the cook
for days to come the text will sit with marker near the end of it
for this her only comfort now, to know he's waiting still, somehow
and days will come and days will turn to weeks, then months, a year to burn
the only way for this old lass to ever move beyond the pass
to go and read the final pages; put to rest her rock of ages
do the only thing she can- to free herself from limbo-land
She finds the book upon her shelf, and opening it for herself
She'll read the words the man had written, years before when he was smitten
on that page, and by his hand, a blessing that he'd always planned
to read her on her wedding day, the daughter he would give away
"Be sure to love the one you're with, and this my girl, your wedding gift"
and tucked within the jacket there, a little clipping of her hair
a poem she'd done when she was nine and two more things within the spine
a lock box number and that key, this man, he loved a mystery...
.@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@
Today she rides upon the seas, and sails around the Florida Keys,
she drops her anchor, swims to shore, the waves don't scare her anymore
and just last year she met a guy, a salty sailor with one eye
he'd seen the movie, lived the book, and thus the blessing, and the hook.
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