...is it not good enough that I receive you, I nourish you, I lick the briny from your barnacle'd wounds?"
Poor Calypso ... after all those years on her island, she wonders if she is better off getting work on the mines, or joining the yacht club, instead of waiting for shipwrecked sailors who are forever planning their escape ...
I like you Sarah - you smell of salt and seaweed. The wind is always in your hair and your eyes are always on the horizon.
ReplyDeleteThe trouble is, I always throw up with the slightest swell.
I hear they have tablets to help these days.
ReplyDelete