Any Port In A Storm
The driving rain was blinding,
A heavy fog hung in the air.
I was getting desperate,
I was starting to despair.
Whilst rollicking across the floor,
I glimpsed a beckoning beacon,
Then tacked a new recourse,
Before my knees could weaken.
A distinct lack of options,
Left my mind decided,
To wait for blissful calm,
Whilst the raging tempest subsided.
The open headland was wide,
Not offering much protection,
For me and my small tug.
I might struggle for detection.
The water it was dirty,
And nothing good for drinking.
How'd I end up here?
What on Earth was I thinking?
But desperate times, Bring desperate measures.
And my lonely sea-salt thirst,
has a yearning for desperate pleasures,
This couldn't be my worst?
So I set my rudder straight,
And peering through the smog,
Made bearing for the Unprincess,
With my warty frog.
All was going well,
As I anchored to the groyne,
Full ready for some in R + R,
Eased into this consensual join.
Suddenly a rogue wave,
O'er my poop deck crashed,
But I battened down the hatches.
Watched as her lighthouses flashed.
The boat she gently rocked,
As much as I could endure,
But well held up in the port,
I was thinking thoughts unpure.
Time stood still, all was calm,
Held in the lull of the eye.
Then out of the pan and into the fire,
It was time for this fish to fry.
The whistle blew, the storm was spent,
It was at the break of day.
With the French letters I had sent,
It was time I was on my way.
The port had been accommodating,
For my lonely cause,
Then I go and set my sails,
Seeking more attractive shores.
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