In the doc, our voices flow
constrained to written word
that ebbs and goes. We
communicate, slowly,
like smoke-stack boats
oozing along the sea.
Send a flare that I can see,
let your story fly with voracity.
The seafaring journey churns
and burns with words, our
ideas roaming endlessly.
In the morning, the sun
says goodnight. We ship out
the dock and rest with delight.