We’re all just waiting, some with little or less time
Everyone is a passenger on this ferry,
Reluctant some are, as if leaving a crime
Eyes watchful of those, more prone and fit to tarry,
Arms wave to many, who have reached the other side,
Laugh they do, from beyond, slowly the ferry goes by,
Lonesome is the fare collector who lets us ride,
“Journeys,” he remarks, …”Capsized by waters well nigh,”
Up around the bend, another ferry awaits,
Some aware and oblivious, to the horn’s sound,
Torn between knowing whether or not they’ll be late,
Weary are the travellers, who’ll put foot to ground,
“Alas!” says a rider, who can see promised land,
Impressed on thine eyes, where a fixed mirage moves slow,
Till light outstrips the darkness, none can see their hands,
Indeed the ferry through lakes and rivers must go,
Navigating from the deck, to a destined place,
Going to a new port, where the old know my name….
