"driftwood just an old piece of wood, on the beach there it stood, ‘til one day he happened along. on a rock as he rested, his hands they caressed it. and he quietly hummed an old song. ‘twas on the first day of may, when all wet from the spray, he retired his oilskins and sou’wester. saying today and forever more, i’ll leave not the shore, and the sea my hands will not blister. he sat for just a short while, cradling the wood as though a child. then arose and bid the sea good day. i watched that seafaring man, ‘til his tracks in the sand, by the waves were all washed away. today as i leaned by the fence, some two months or more since, his tracks disappeared in the sand. around the small point of land. came the very same man, with the same piece of wood in his hand. but to my delight and surprise, though tears filled my eyes, and a lump appeared in my throat. his love for the sea. was quite clear to me, as he launched a beautiful boat. he had carved from the wood, as perhaps only he could, with such attention to every detail. all rigged fore and aft, a masterpiece of craft, from keel to each stitch in her sail. © 2001 kevin paynter "   Submitted By: NULL