A plastic segmented ship
Sailing seas of unnatural blue
Contained within walls of glass
Forever doomed to never pass
Tacking to and fro
Whither the wind go
Tapping the barrier with the prow
All wondering where to go now
The confines are rather small
Cylindrical and long
Consistent in drop line fall
Artificial and very wrong
The captain loads his cannon
Firing in tiny fury
But nary a crack or mark
Is made for any to see
The craft is becalmed today
No wind or waves to sway
The crew is fallen down drunk
What else to do in such a funk?
The captain gazes out
From his spot at the wheel
He plays with a dagger wistfully
Perhaps considering opening a vein with the steel
I look on with though
Sadness for them is all I feel
So with a beating heart
I go for the steal
I gently carry the bottle
Down to the harbor
And climb down
Under the wharf
Holding it level with the water
Surrounded by seagull's cry and peal
I break off the end of the bottle
The ship slipping into the real
The crew sobered up quick
The captain shouting orders
Barely to be heard
Beyond three foot borders
Watching intently
I sat cross legged on the shore
As the first wind caught their cloth
The craft daring the waves and froth
Even as the ship proceeded away further
In the shimmering midday sun
It seemed to grow larger
As she was trimmed and starting to run
Before I knew it
It seemed to be life sized
Running for the horizon
And freedom long prized
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