It is not so much that the boat passed
and you failed to notice it.
It is more like the boat stopping
directly outside your bedroom window,
the captain blowing the signal-horn,
the band playing a rousing march.
The boat shouted, waving bright flags,
its silver hull blinding in the sunlight.
But you had this idea you were going by train.
You kept checking the time-table,
digging for tracks.
And the boat got tired of you,
so tired it pulled up the anchor
and raised the ramp.
The boat bobbed into the distance,
shrinking like a toy—
at which point you probably realized
you had always loved the sea.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_6Q9gOOFHxgtN6F30oATV6S_vzWqLQE_390AjAmPUB8reyHGPoZVNjimvDvks5esRHc1CtSgjECmxyOBsBkzyZ0iedJiD3fLsZ6bwTMh1NpDeU7AYH2Y8pmRV1lPzzvkuCof8vfYasa0/s200/174_nsnye3.jpg)
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