Cape Weekend / Make Me A Boat

Please make me a boat that can ride on the sea
From city to beach-front it’ll carry me.
Past lighthouse, past sailboat, past jetty so gray,
At sunset she’ll dock there; three days shall I stay.

Its Friday, the weekend – I’m there for a haul;
Art openings; street closings; fine dining for all.
My lover awaits me with arms opened wide.
Through streets that are bustling, together we’ll stride.

We’ll eat well; we’ll drink well – the moonlight’s so bright –  
Then drive to our dwelling and sleep through the night.
Cool bed-sheets, warm snuggling – it all feels so good.
We sleep-in much longer than we know we should.

Soft clothes and then coffee – set breakfast on tray,
And read in the sunshine while time slips away.
Soon lunchtime, then bike rides and beach tides and dips.
Then cuddled in blankets we nap besides ships.

ॱ ॱ ॱ

Now chart me a path that will wind through a grove.
From bike-path to foot-path not far from the cove.
Past goslings, past lilies, past blankets of green …
We’ll circle round back to a platform serene.

Then teatime, the prime time for faces to see,
A party; a gathering; a beverage for me.
And dancing, and glancing, and smiles all around.
The sun cast long shadows while sea-waves abound.

We dart home then start on a meal for our deck,
Light candles at sunset, enjoy every speck.
Then work if we can, for an hour or two,
For nightlife soon beckons and calls us anew.

Dark clothes made of leather – or suede if you choose,
Plush costumes; bright feathers, and bars full of booze.
We roam hand-in-hand through the crowds energized,
And find us a bench where the views mesmerize.

ॱ ॱ ॱ

Let’s build us a house where the land’s pure and lush.
And move our possessions without much a rush.
And live oh-so-grand with as least as we need –  
Where straight from the fruits of our land can we feed.

In old age; a new stage of passion and play,
Two lifetimes of knowledge begin now to pay.
The days pass; the months pass; the groundwork’s been laid –  
But far from completed, old dreams never fade…

Those hobbies we shelved oh so young in our youth
Resurface again and remind us our truth.
It’s these that excite us, complete and fulfill.
Old hands can still grasp now what time couldn’t steal.

If I could predict how this story will end,
How whether the plot will grow thick or grow thin,
I reckon I’d gamble, I think I’d suppose –  
The friendship will flourish … unfettered it goes.